Crossing the Line of Scrimmage
by Elva Skupski
Summary: Spoilers through season 2. AU stemming from the story/timeline in "The Sue Sylvester Shuffle" in which Rachel stays on the football team, wrecking Quinn's prom queen strategy. Eventual Faberry. And the first time I've ever written a fanfic. Go easy on me?
1. Chapter 1

Quinn sneezed.

"Bless you, sweetie," her mom called from the other side of the attic.

"Thanks," Quinn said, rubbing her nose. The two of them had spent the better part of Saturday afternoon sorting through dusty boxes in the storage space. Judy wanted every last item of Russell's out of the house, now that the divorce was final. Quinn thumbed through some old vinyls, making a mental note to come back and look the records over for Glee club inspiration, before setting them aside. Underneath, she found a box labeled, "Judy, HS," in fading marker. "Hey, Mom, come check this out."

"What is it?" Judy wiped her hands on her housework jeans and stood up from where she was crouched over a box full of golf tees and blank scorecards.

Quinn held up an old Polaroid of her mother in a cheer uniform, "Blast from the past."

Her mother laughed, taking the photo in-hand as she knelt down. "My goodness, I had forgotten just how short that skirt was. Of course, nothing as short as what they have you girls wearing now."

Quinn rolled her eyes before turning to pull out an old yearbook, "Class of '84" was embossed along the spine and the front cover. "Senior year?"

"Yep," Judy motioned for her daughter to look through the book. It fell open at a two-page spread of the prom, with an elegant, beaming Judy front-and-center next to a handsome blonde boy with serious eyes.

Quinn frowned, "You and," she hesitated, "Daddy?"

Judy traced the faces in the photo and sighed. "Yes, your father and me."

They sat in silence for a moment, Judy seemingly deep in thought and Quinn struggling to find something to say, not wanting her mother to focus any more on the pain of the divorce than she already had. "Well, you look beautiful, Mom."

That seemed to do the trick, making Judy smile and shake her head lightly. "I'll always remember that night—one of the best in my life. Up until my girls were born," she wraps an arm around Quinn's shoulders. "It was such an amazing feeling. Accepting that crown—it really meant something to me. Your grandparents were so proud. I had worked so hard for that title. It was like being a princess, even if just for one night." Reaching across with her other hand, Judy shut the book. "I hope you have that experience, too, Quinnie." Giving her daughter a quick kiss on top of her head, she adds, "I know even after everything that's happened, you can still earn it."

Quinn looks off to the side, trying her best not to grimace. She gives a lukewarm smile and nods with more confidence than she feels, "Of course, Mom. I got my place back with the Cheerios. I'm a shoo-in for prom queen."

Judy squeezes her shoulder and stands up, making her way back over to the abandoned sporting goods, leaving Quinn to stare blankly at the rest of the memorabilia spread out in front of her.

_I hope I can do it. It would break Mom's heart if I didn't win._

* * *

Quinn dug her hands a little deeper in the pockets of her letterman jacket and scowled.

_Why do more than half of my most uncomfortable confrontations happen in the ladies' room?_

Reflexively, her hands were coaxed back out when Coach Sylvester offered her a sheet of paper—a resignation form for Glee. She stared, appalled, as the older woman also handed Brittany a crayon drawing "from" the human cannon.

_If Santana isn't going to stick up for Brittany, than I will. I can't believe this._

"Coach, that cannon is going to get Brittany killed. Is that really worth it just to win a stupid national championship?" Quinn gestured angrily with her form.

"Seventh consecutive stupid national championship."

"This is ridiculous."

Coach Sylvester flicked her eyes up and down the head cheerleader, "You had quite a year last year, Q. And as I recall, you didn't have such a good time out of that Cheerios uniform." Quinn swallowed thickly as Coach turned to include the other two in her ultimatum, "Girls, I am giving you the chance right now to choose once and for all where your true loyalties lie. Choose the Cheerios or choose the Glee club."

Later, Quinn put on the toughest face she could manage to cover her guilt and sadness as she placed her signed form, along with Santana and Brittany's, onto Mr. Schuester's desk. She turned, with the other girls following suit, and walked out in silence. Her stomach was in knots. She lost her patience with Finn when he tried to confront her in the hallway and even pushed Sam away afterward, when he asked her if she wanted to talk about it.

_I can't afford to lose my spot. None of them understand. It doesn't matter what Glee means to me, I can't risk it. I can't._

She refused to let herself look or even slow down as she passed the choir room door on her way out of the school.

* * *

The next few days were awful for Quinn. She couldn't stand the curious, hurt looks of the Glee clubbers in the halls. In fact, she had taken to simply not making eye contact with them at all. It only served to torment her conscience more, knowing that many of them probably perceived her avoidance as rejection instead of regret and shame. Puck shot her exasperated glares in class; Finn was always trying to catch her alone to berate her again about quitting. Tina actually did an about-face in the cafeteria line just so they didn't have to stand together. Quinn couldn't even bring herself to reply to a text from Mercedes begging her to reconsider.

Rachel was probably the worst, though. The girl had always worn her heart on her sleeve, which had made her an easy target in Quinn's bullying prime. But now? Now it was just excruciating. She'd promised herself she was going to stop channeling her frustrations into the shorter girl and had even been modestly successful in recent months. If Rachel's face expressed anything, though, it was that quitting Glee was just as hurtful for the tiny singer as any remarks made about her animal sweaters or jabs aimed at her femininity.

Quinn glanced past her locker door as she swapped out textbooks. Across the hall, leaning forlornly and staring intently back at her, was Rachel. Quickly, she snapped her eyes back to the contents of her locker, cursing herself.

_This sucks. Everyone is mad at me. If they only understood the kind of pressure I'm under... ._

The girl closed her eyes and leaned her head against the frame of her locker. After a few seconds spent collecting herself, she straightened and pushed the thoughts from her mind. Snapping the metal door shut, she turned and gave a startled yelp.

"Berry!" Quinn clutched at her heart, "What do you think you're doing sneaking up on someone like that?"

"Quinn, you could hardly say what I did was sneaking. I merely crossed the hallway and approached you. Although I was momentarily out of your line of sight due to the locker door, I never-"

The blonde growled, "Get to the point."

Rachel made a disapproving face, but changed tracks none the less. "I wanted to talk to you about your decision to quit Glee club."

"Save it," Quinn stepped past the other girl and started walking purposefully toward her next class.

Rachel, however, wasn't about to be ignored. She trotted a little to fall in step, "I understand that Coach Sylvester has put you in a compromising situation, but I must appeal to your-"

Quinn's stride came to an abrupt halt, causing the brunette to bounce lightly off her shoulder, which she ignored. "Listen, Berry, you don't understand a thing—not about me and not about my decision. Nothing you can say will convince me to rejoin that stupid club. Do you hear me? Now get lost!" The cheerleader stormed away, leaving Rachel clutching her textbooks to her chest in the middle of the hallway.

Rachel retorted under her breath, "I understand more than you think, Quinn Fabray. If you were less stubborn, and just listened to me, you'd know that." She shook her head and walked the other direction.

* * *

"Okay."

_I can't believe I'm doing this._

Quinn is with Santana and Brittany, standing by the human cannon as Finn stares down at her in disbelief.

"Okay?" he asks, clearly shocked by how easy it was to convince her to quit the Cheerios.

"Okay," Quinn reiterates with a small nod and a smile.

_It's probably kind of mean to let him think I'm doing this because of him, but now isn't really the time to talk about it._

Finn smiles at her and then shoots a glance to the side, "What about you, Santana?"

"Screw her, she put me on the bottom of the pyramid."

The boy was grinning now, "Come on, we've only got a few minutes."

They all turn to head toward the football field when Coach saunters over from the charter bus, "No time for a foursome, ladies, bus leaves in five."

The small group stops; Quinn shoots up an eyebrow, "We quit Cheerios."

"No, you can't quit Cheerios. It's blood in, blood out. Now get your sweet little cans on that bus."

Santana chimes in, "But we still quit."

"You're my stars; if you leave, I have no performance."

The teens smile at one another and turn away again, Brittany calls over her shoulder, "Sucks for you."

Quinn shrugs, "Sorry," and joins her friends.

_I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I just did that. Breath, Fabray. You will come up with something to stay on top. Just breath. This is the right thing to do. You've been depressed and angry all week. This is the right choice. Not just for you. You're saving Brittany, you're helping the football team. Helping Glee. Rachel. Rachel? I mean, well, yeah. She's part of Glee. _

As they arrive at the field, Puck runs over and catches Finn by the elbow.

"Dude, I tried. I got Fritz-Mueller and Adams to come back, but the other guys weren't buying it. That ass Karofsky wouldn't keep his damn mouth shut. Hey, what are they doing here?" Puck gestured at the cheerleaders with his helmet.

Finn smiled at the girls, "Doing the right thing."

Puck looked from Finn to the girls, not exactly following, but Brittany delivers a surprisingly appropriate, if non sequitur, comment, "Nobody in Glee club would shoot me out of a cannon, right San?"

Santana smiles softly at the tall, blonde girl, "Course not, B."

"'Kay," Brittany nods resolutely, apparently having fully come to terms with their decision.

Quinn's eyebrows are threatening to creep up to her hair line, she interjects for Puck's sake, "We quit."

"Quit Cheerios?" he asks, half smirking, half in awe.

"Yeah, now what were you talking about? Only two guys?" Quinn pressed.

Finn wrinkles his brow, "Didn't Sam tell you?"

"Tell me what," frustration was leaking into her voice.

"Well, when the guys on football wouldn't do the halftime show, Coach Beiste said they couldn't play. We were gonna have to forfeit, but then... ."

"Then, what?"

"The girls sort of joined the team."

"What?" Quinn put a hand on her hip and gestured for a better explanation.

Puck held up a hand to Finn, who was obviously trying to work out what to say. "Look, Rachel, Mercedes, Tina and Lauren have been filling in so we have enough men on the field to play. I tried to get the team to do the show so Beiste would let them back on the team for the second half. They're not going for it, except the two guys I mentioned. We're gettin' it handed to us out there. _Hard._ But maybe with our a tackles back on and the smaller girls off the field, we've still got a chance."

Santana and Brittany exchanged a somewhat bewildered look. Quinn still wasn't sure what she thought of the girls playing football. It didn't seem like it should be permissible, but that wasn't the most immediate concern.

"Well," Quinn started, "we still have to get our zombie makeup and outfits on. Let's get going." With that, she marched along the side of the stands towards the locker rooms and everyone else followed her.

Despite the smaller group, the half-time show was still a success. The crowd loved the mash-up and Coach Beiste let Fritz-Mueller and Adams onto the field. Quinn had watched, slightly amused, as Finn tried to convince Rachel she should be one of the two girls to leave the game. The brunette had shouted at him profusely with her mouth guard in, occasionally pushing a finger stiffly into the boy's chest, despite his towering appearance. Beiste had to break them up, and from what Quinn could see from the sidelines, Mercedes and Tina had offered to resign from the game, which meant Rachel and Lauren were both mandatory to keep a full team. One of the refs approached the circle and made a hand signal, indicating it was time to get the game back on. The coach gave a firm stare to Finn and pointed him back out to the green, a triumphant Rachel Berry flaunting past him to join the huddle. Quinn turned her head to let out a little laughter, which was cut short when the whistle blew for the first snap of the second half.

Quinn cheered along with Brittany, Santana, Mercedes and Tina as the first few plays earned the Titans some yardage. Puck had been correct, having their tackles back was making a big difference. Every time a new scrimmage started, the former cheerleader watched anxiously as the tiny figure of Rachel Berry would drop to the ground as huge boys stampeded and collided around her. Even in all the padding, the girl was still ridiculously tiny.

_Having her out there is almost as dangerous as putting Brittany into that cannon. She's going to get crushed. _

Luck seemed to be with the star performer that evening, as she made it to the last few moments of the game and had only endured grass stains. The Titans were down by a field goal, but mere seconds remained on the clock. Finn had called for a timeout. Quinn and the rest of the girls shifted nervously, feeling the sense of loss creeping into the back of their minds.

Mercedes shook her head, "Well ya'll, it was a nice try. Just too bad."

"Yeah," Tina agreed, "it was pretty exciting to be out there playing, though."

Quinn was surprised when Santana cut the pair off, "You two would make _the_ _worst _cheerleaders, I swear. It ain't over 'til it's over." She shook a pompom at them, menacingly so.

_Only Santana can make pompoms intimidating._

Quinn rolled her eyes and brought her gaze back to the field. The huddle had just broken and Finn was shooting glances at Rachel every few seconds, to the point of distraction. As everyone took their positions, the Titan players began to groan. The Glee girls exchanged looks before realizing what was happening—psychological warfare. Coach Sylvester would have been proud, if she weren't screaming and knocking mp3 players and books out of the hands of a bus-full of terrified Cheerios, as she was likely doing at that exact moment.

Turning to the crowd, the zombified cheering section started a groaning chant for brains, attempting to help intimidate the team on offense. The clock started counting down again, the center hiked the ball, and then, well, a miracle happened.

The moment played in front of Quinn in slow motion. The quarterback, distracted by the inhuman howls from the Titans and the stands, fumbled the ball. Chaos ensued, as timid, confused wide receivers and guards starting getting creamed left and right by McKinley's players. In the madness, Quinn spotted a tiny red body crawling over crushed boys and between feet toward the stray ball, still going unnoticed by the opposition.

_She can't possibly be planning to... ._

But she was. Rachel scrambled onto her feet while scooping up the ball and took off at a run. An impressive run, in fact. Puck was shouting something to Adams and Lauren, both of whom started tailing Rachel, knocking down anyone who got within striking distance. Quinn covered her eyes as a particularly large player, number 59, barreled down the field toward the petite girl. It briefly crossed her mind that Artie might have a spare wheelchair for Rachel in the aftermath. Earsplitting cheers erupted from behind her and someone started shaking her shoulders. When Quinn looked up, she saw every player in red flocking to Rachel, hoisting her up in the air.

"We won!" Brittany screamed in Quinn's ear.

"W-we won?" Quinn looked around and saw everyone screaming, hugging. "We won! Go Titans!" She grinned back at Brittany and they, along with the other girls, ran out onto the field to join the team in celebration.

_I can't believe she did it,_ Quinn mused, yelling herself hoarse and watching as Rachel dramatically alternated between blowing kisses and throwing up victorious number-one hands, while being paraded around on Puck's shoulders. _Rachel is amazing. Crazy, but amazing._

* * *

Judy was startled when her daughter slipped through the front door, holding her duffel bag.

"Quinn, honey, why aren't you on the bus to nationals? What's going on?" Judy set aside the novel she'd been reading and hurried over to her daughter.

"Mom, nothing's wrong, okay? I just, I just... ." Quinn felt a lump rising in her throat. Her energy from the win was mixing with her apprehension, "We won the football game," she tried.

Judy put her hands on Quinn's shoulders, but the concern didn't leave her face. "That's great news, sweetie, but why aren't you on the bus with the rest of the Cheerios?"

Quinn visibly sagged at the name of her former cheer team and hot tears started to spill over her cheeks, "I—I quit." She couldn't look at her mother anymore, so she dropped her eyes to the floor.

"But you were so excited to be captain again. Quinn, did something happen?"

Quinn was fully crying now, "I don't want to talk about it, please?"

Judy frowned, but saw that this was one of those moments she had failed at in the past. Her daughter needed support, needed to be a teenager entitled to confusing feelings and she didn't need someone to force her back into a statuesque doll. So she did what Russell would never have approved of—she wrapped her arms around her daughter and let her cry. "It's okay. I'm here, it's okay."

Quinn dropped her bag and returned the hug, thankful she didn't have to hash over the events leading up to the game. Despite the comfort, she felt guilty. She would have to explain eventually and explaining meant facing her mother's disappointment.

_How will I ever be prom queen now? _

She cried harder.

* * *

Thankfully, Quinn's mother didn't bring up cheerleading again for the rest of the weekend. They had gotten lunch out and gone shopping, which had helped to mask a lot of the foreboding Quinn felt. After dinner Sunday night, she retired to her room and tried to puzzle out what she could do about prom.

_Okay, think Fabray. Prom is a popularity contest. Other things must be able to make you popular. What else have you got besides splits?_

She cupped her chin, elbow on her desk.

_Well, cheer is a sport. Maybe if I joined a different sports team... ._

Her thoughts wandered to images of softball players and girls in basketball jerseys.

_Actually,_ she frowned, _maybe not. Girl athletes, that has a bit of a … a stigma attached to it. What else? Being in clubs doesn't really do it, otherwise Berry would be prom queen._

She scoffed at that thought, wondering idly what it would take to make Rachel Berry the prom queen. Her subconscious filled in some images from _Carrie_, leaving her with a little shudder.

_Definitely not a pleasant thought. Rachel is crazy enough, with her schemes on stardom and other people's boyfriends... . Wait, that's it! _Her eyes lit up. _We just won the championship game—if I'm dating the quarterback on a championship winning team, I can still be prom queen. Yes!_

Quinn pushed back from her chair and began pacing her room.

_Rachel and Finn have been split up for a while. Santana wasn't interested in Finn to begin with, so no competition there. I can just...oh. Sam._ She glanced down at her hand, at the promise ring he'd given her. _This is going to hurt him. It was silly of me to accept the ring. But the status was so useful and he's a nice guy. A doofus sometimes, but a nice guy. _Her pacing slowed, she twisted the ring on her finger. _I guess I'll have to talk to him this week. Maybe we can still be friends. He can't have been very satisfied. I mean, with my chastity rules and everything. It's probably for the best anyway._ She paused in her pacing in front of her mirror.

_Who am I kidding? It's the best for me because that's all I ever think about—me. I have to do this for mom. She's all I have left and if I disappoint her again, then where will I be? _

She gazed at herself in the mirror. "Where would I be?"

* * *

Sam didn't have time to chat with her on Monday between classes and he had football right after school. It was Tuesday morning and Quinn was craning her neck, trying to spot her blonde boyfriend in the halls before first period. He came around a corner, waving to Mike who split off to go to his own class. She made meaningful eye contact with him and he grinned, heading her way.

"Look, I need to talk to-" she began, but was interrupted.

"Did you hear?" he asked with a little glint in his eyes.

She shook her head, confused, "Did I hear what?"

Just then, a modest bang rang out in the hallway and the two of them turned to see Finn walking away from a former football player, whom he had apparently shoved into a locker.

Quinn scrunched her eyebrows and turned back to Sam.

"Finn's pissed," he said.

"What's going on?" she looked from her boyfriend to the back of the boy glowering his way down the hall.

"At practice after school yesterday... ." Sam tried to inject a dramatic pause, which earned him a withering gaze from Quinn. He pressed his lips together into a half smile shrugged, resigning to her lack of playfulness. "Coach Beiste made Rachel the quarterback."

Quinn's eyes were as wide as saucers and her mouth fell slightly open, "She what?"

"I know, right? Lekye'ung." Her mouth snapped shut and the corners turned down. Sam sighed, "It's Na'vi for 'crazy.' Hey, we better get to class. Talk to you later, okay?" He swooped in and planted a kiss on her cheek before walking away.

"Crazy," she muttered.

_What am I going to do now?_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Wow, thank you guys for all the kind comments! Had I known a warm reception like that was waiting for me, I would have started writing sooner. Here is a quick update as my thanks. It's shorter, but it comes with the promise of more soon and a pinky swear that I'll actually finish the whole story. :) Thanks again! _

_Oh, and to answer the question about Rach as QB (when there are potentially more fitting positions for her). Well. True story: I know absolutely nothing about football. I set her up as QB because it conflicts most directly with Quinn's plan. It probably won't be the most outlandish plot point before the end, though, so get your suspension of disbelief hats ready. This is the Glee-verse after all. ;)_

* * *

Quinn squirmed in her seat, first period couldn't end quickly enough. She was still trying to ingest the idea that Rachel Berry was the new Titan quarterback. Her notebook was a dead giveaway for how distracted she was—doodles of tiaras, footballs and stars littered the margins.

_I have got to find Finn. There must be some way to fix this. What could he have screwed up so badly that Coach Beiste made Rachel, of all people, the QB? Why not Puck? Or Sam? Why couldn't the boyfriend I already _have_ be the quarterback instead of _her_? It's like God is punishing me for being ambitious. _

The bell finally sounded. Quinn crammed her notebook back into her bag as she hurried from the classroom. Having her eyes trained on the 6-feet-high zone of the hallway in search of Finn, she failed to spot Rachel before colliding with her. Both girls fell to the floor, Rachel with a soft "oomph" and Quinn with a growl.

"How clumsy of me, I'm so sorry I... " the words died in the smaller girl's mouth as she caught Quinn's glare.

"Watch where you're going much?" Quinn slapped her hands on the ground and thrust herself quickly upward. Possibly flying high from her new status, Rachel returned the glare and shot out her hand, pointedly asking for help to stand up. The blonde scoffed, but took the proffered hand anyway. The smallest quarterback in all of Ohio was hauled onto her feet and began smoothing her outfit. An outfit which included a football jersey with a large, gold star bedazzled on the front. "You must be joking," Quinn muttered.

_With a denim skirt, knee socks and sneakers, no less. I'm surprised the laces aren't gold lamé._

Rachel glanced between hazel eyes and down at her attire, confidence wavering slightly, "I thought, football uniforms, though well-designed for their ultimate purpose during a game, are rather lacking in showmanship off the field. Adding some glitz and glam to an otherwise drab garment was absolutely necessary, in my opinion. As the leader of both the Glee club and the football team," the brunette hesitated, hoping to have caught the other girl off guard. No such luck, so she continued, "It's my responsibility to put my best face forward for both groups." Quinn folded her arms and remained silent. "Perhaps you've heard? I'm the Titan's new _star _quarterback."

Quinn pursed her lips, "You are unbelievable."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, I guess I've always known you were crazy, but are you dumb, too?" Rachel opened her mouth to object, but the taller girl pressed on. "Seriously, Berry. You are going to get yourself killed playing football."

"Quinn, while I appreciate your concern for my-"

"You know what? Forget it. Play football. Maybe somebody will do me a favor and put you in a coma."

Quinn stormed off, once again leaving Rachel to puzzle out their exchange.

* * *

"Why did Coach Beiste make Berry the quarterback?"

Sam's chewing slowed while he regarded his girlfriend. When the two of them had first gotten together, he had worried that her interest in Rachel was linked to jealousy over Finn. He had been relieved to find her apparent obsession with the other girl still in tact over the holiday, after the Glee-leading duo broke up. Well, sort of relieved. Sam liked the little singer and it bothered him when Quinn was overly cruel to her. Lately, she'd been going fairly easy on Rachel. He had hoped things would stay that way.

Shrugging off the thought and swallowing his bite of burrito, he answered, "She kind of challenged him to a diva-off, but like, football-style."

Quinn's eyes narrowed, "What?"

"Finn was trying to get Coach to kick her off the team for her own good, but Rachel wasn't having any of it. She said something about being an asset to the team because of her low center of gravity... " he scrunched his eyebrows, trying to recall the litany of benefits Rachel felt she provided. "Anyway, Finn kept interrupting her and yelling and stuff. She kind of lost it and told Finn she made a better player than he did. And then she asked Beiste if she could audition for Finn's position."

"She really used the word 'audition?'" a forkful of salad paused halfway to the her mouth.

"Yeah, she did. Coach actually okay'd it, which was the really nuts part. She had them run some sprint drills and then throw against the QB net for a while. Rachel is small, but she's super fast—faster than Finn, even with shorter legs. She can't throw as far, but her aim is easily five-times better than Finn's. Weird, right?"

The salad still hadn't made it to Quinn's mouth.

"That's pretty much it. Coach was impressed and said she'd give Rachel a shot, wanted me and Finn to teach her the playbook. Since we already won the championship, she said it wouldn't hurt to have Rachel be the quarterback in our spirit game. Finn blew up."

"Wait, so she's not really the quarterback then? Finn is still the real quarterback."

"Well, he would have been, but when he lost his temper, Coach suspended him."

"Are you kidding me? I thought you didn't have enough players as it was, what is Coach Beiste thinking?"

Sam frowned, "Look, he was being really uncool about it. The season is basically over, and Rachel wasn't half-bad, like I said. Coach just wanted to give her a shot and Finn flipped."

"Do you honestly think this a good idea?"

He leaned back in his chair, "Why are you freaking out about it? Is this because of Finn?"

_Crap._

Quinn could sense that she was treading dangerous water and backed down, softening her voice, "No, that's not it at all. It's just that, don't you think having a girl for the quarterback is going to make a mockery of the team? Besides, Coach Beiste should know better. It's irresponsible to put a girl that size out on the field."

Sam squinted a little and then smiled.

"What?"

"You're worried," he said triumphantly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He leaned forward, conspiratorially, "You're worried about Rachel getting hurt."

_Me? Worried about Rachel Berry? As if._

Quinn was about to protest, but he patted her knee and kept going, "She'll be fine. She's got all the Glee guys looking out for her. And after winning last week, even Adams is being respectful."

She wanted to set the record straight, but she caught sight of Finn sulking in the corner of the cafeteria.

_This is more of a train wreck than I thought. _

Quinn smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I still don't think it's a good idea, Sam." She paused, threw a concerned look in Finn's direction and turned back. "Maybe I should go talk to Finn. If he apologies to Ber—to Rachel, maybe Coach Beiste will revoke his suspension."

Sam grinned at his girlfriend, "It's really cool how much you care about the team, even when you aren't a Cheerio. Yeah, definitely go talk to him." He picked up his burrito again and chomped down happily.

A more astute boyfriend might have caught the light leaving her eyes at the cheerleading comment, but it went unnoticed. "Right," Quinn picked up her salad and purse, "I'll talk to you later."

Sam waved with his free hand and watched as she headed over to Finn's empty table.

* * *

"You need to fix this," Quinn slammed her partially eaten salad down on the table, causing Finn to jump.

"What are you talking about? This happened to me—it isn't my fault! Rachel just-"

"Rachel nothing, Finn. How does it look to the rest of the school when their quarterback gets replaced by a girl?" her eyes were hard as she stared down at her ex-boyfriend.

"Did you just come over here to yell at me? Why do you care, anyway?"

_Okay, this isn't going how I planned. Calm down. Focus, Fabray._

Switching gears, she tried some saccharine, "Because...because I care about you. And I can see that you're upset."

Finn perked up, "Yeah?"

She smiled sympathetically and sat down, "Of course, silly. I just don't want to see you lose credit for all your hard work. You were the one that lead us to the biggest win in recent McKinley High history. Rachel may have scored the touchdown, but who was there to call the play? You."

Finn sagged a little, "Actually, Rachel came up with that idea."

_I should have known. Always the flair for theatrics, of course Berry was the one to come up with the zombie mind game attack._

Thinking quickly, she countered, "But you were calling the shots for the other 98% of that game. So-"

"We didn't even start catching up until I put Sam in as QB and came to get you guys away from Coach Sylvester," Finn glowered miserably into his plate.

Quinn blew out a forceful breath, "Fine. Can we at least agree you get credit for all the games leading up to last week?"

He nodded slowly, then smirked a little. "Yeah...yeah, you're right. That was all me."

"Good," she said, finally having made some progress. "So what do we need to do to get you off suspension and back on as quarterback?"

The giant of a boy shrugged, "I think Coach is pretty set on Rachel playing quarterback for at least one game. I mean, if she quit or messed up or something... ."

Quinn's eyes took on a manic glint, "Well, you just do everything you can think of to get back in Coach Beiste's good graces and maybe the other part will work itself out."

Finn nodded, unaware of the scheming going on in Quinn's head. He looked up as she made to leave the table, "Thanks, Quinn. I feel a little better, actually."

"I'm glad."

_Now I've got to find a way to get Berry kicked off that team. _

Lunch ended and the plotting began.


	3. Chapter 3

Most of Quinn's afternoon classes were spent trying to come up with a plan for operation Berry Begone. She was on her way to Glee when a binder sailed past her, exploding against a locker and showering the hall with paper.

_Sounds like someone's still upset about losing nationals..._

She glanced over her shoulder, suspicions confirmed. Coach Sylvester was angrily flinging the contents of an innocent student's locker onto the ground. A concerned member of the faculty briefly stretched out a hand, as though to calm the enraged woman and stop her rampage, but quickly retracted their arm and ducked into a classroom after watching her wrench a young man by the collar and stuff him into girls' bathroom. Quinn stared a moment too long and accidentally made eye contact with her former mentor.

"You!" Sue bellowed.

She winced and turned around fully. "Yes, Coach?"

In traversing the twenty feet between them, Coach Sylvester managed to knock down two bystanders and tear up a terrified freshman's homework assignment. "Nobody walks away from Sue Sylvester. You and your little scab-eating Glee pals better start sleeping with one eye open, Fabray. Fair warning, I was just on my way to see Principal Figgins about having your little back-up band expelled for an unauthorized jam session I had the privilege of busting."

"I don't understand," Quinn said slowly.

Sue flared her nostrils, "I always knew what that jazz band really was—an opium den. Good luck finding anything instrumental to cover up that tragic cacophony you call singing." Feeling her taunt needed no further explanation, she shouldered the blonde and carried on terrorizing the student body.

_Oh my goodness, that woman is insane. _Quinn shook her head and continued her trek to the choir room. _I can't believe I used to take orders from her. _

She spotted Mr. Schuester up ahead and called out to him.

"Mr. Schue!"

He turned around searching for the source of his name. His eyes fell on Quinn and he smiled, "Hey, Quinn. Ready for Glee?"

She nodded, "Yeah. I thought maybe I should warn you," his face fell and his eyebrows pinched together, "Coach Sylvester just said something about going to see Principal Figgins... ."

_That's it! I know how to get Rachel kicked off the team. All I have to do is-_

Mr. Schue turned his head slightly, "Did she say what about?"

"What? Oh. Um, yes! Sorry. She said something about catching the jazz band with drugs. You should probably head her off, she's trying to make it so we don't have any music, I guess."

"Dang it," he said softly. He glanced off in the distance and then back at Quinn, "I better take care of this. Get the kids started without me. Have them do warm-ups, maybe some runs. I will be back as soon as I can." He left without waiting for confirmation.

When she arrived at the door to the choir room, she paused and looked in through the small window. Rachel was talking animatedly to Mike and Tina, who were listening with polite, slightly uncomfortable smiles.

_I've got you cornered, Berry._

Smirking, she slipped into the room.

* * *

A gentle knock sounded on Principal Figgins' door. He looked at it warily. Relief flooded him when he saw it was just a student and not a return visit from Sue.

"Come in!"

Quinn entered and sat down, "Hello Principal Figgins, I was hoping to talk with you about the football team."

"Wasn't that game fantastic? We made $717.85 off the concessions alone!" he said, smiling broadly.

She quirked an eyebrow, "Uh, that sounds … good?"

Nodding enthusiastically, he pulled a small pad of paper forward, "And, if you include the ticket sales, our prof-"

"Actually, sir, I have a concern over one of the players." He appeared a little dejected at not being able to share his financial excitement with someone, but waved for her to continue. "You see, Coach Beiste has recently made Rachel Berry, a girl, the quarterback."

"I see," he cupped his chin. "That's very uncommon, isn't it? We could us that to promote the games, increase attendance."

She interrupted his train of thought, "Aren't you concerned about lawsuits?"

This got his attention. "Pardon?"

_Going in for the kill..._

"What will the school do when she's injured? Believe me, she _will_ get hurt. The girl is very petite. Can the school afford the lawsuits her parents are sure to bring? What happens if she suffers a serious injury, say, to the spinal chord?" Quinn flashes back briefly to her earlier conversation with Rachel, "Or if she ends up comatose? Can you afford to pay for her to be on life support for the next sixty years? Principal Figgins, I think it's for the good of the school that you intervene here."

_Legal action, bad publicity and loss of money. If this were a game of darts, I would have sunk all three shots right in the bull's-eye just now._

Figgins's eyes were wide and he was anxiously twirling a pen. "Goodness gracious, young lady. You are correct! I need to speak with Shannon right now, excuse me." He shot out of his chair and the office.

_I'm a genius._

She smiled to herself all the way home.

* * *

"You seem to be in a cheery mood. Good day at school?" Judy asked before taking a bite of green beans.

Quinn looked up from her plate, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you were humming earlier and you seem, I don't know, relaxed."

"Oh," she shrugged, "school was pretty good, I guess." There weren't really words to express her joy over crushing Rachel's success and maneuvering herself one step closer to prom queen. So she filled her mouth with mashed potato instead of elaborating.

"I see," the older woman took a sip of water. Making conversation with teenagers can be a chore, and she knows it, so she doesn't let her daughter's terseness deter her. "How's Sam doing?"

Quinn's nose wrinkled in thought. _How is he doing? I don't even ask him anymore. He really deserves a more attentive girlfriend. I'll almost be doing him a favor when I break up with him. _The reflection on their relationship makes her frown. Her eyes dart over to her mother, still waiting patiently for an answer.

"He's fine."

Judy raises an eyebrow, a genetic gift of incredulity inherited by all women in their family. "Uh huh." She watches as her daughter picks up the pace eating her dinner, assuming correctly that it's in an effort to talk less and be excused from the table all the sooner. "Sweetie, can I ask you something?"

Quinn freezes and quietly offers up, "Sure, Mom."

"Are you happy?"

It was the kind of question Quinn would have automatically lied about a year ago and definitely not something her parents would have asked her with any kind of sincerity. Her hands retreat to her lap, where she nervously pulls at the hem of her napkin.

_How do I even answer that?_

Judy's expression turns earnest, "Quinnie, I know life at your age can be...stressful." Quinn stiffened, her face forming a scowl. "Really, it can be stressful at any age, but youth is a particularly confusing time. I just want to make sure that you're-"

"Not having sex with my boyfriend?" the younger girl crossed her arms, defenses up.

Her mother shook her head, "That is _not_ what I was going to say. This family is terrible at communication."

"And that's my fault?"

"Quinn, stop it," she shot her daughter a warning look. "Please listen to me." Quinn raised her chin, but stayed quiet as asked. "Your father and I are to blame for that. Both of us. All I'm trying to say is that you can talk to me. About anything. Good things and bad things. I want to know what's going on in your life and not just so I can brag about you at the country club." Quinn's eyes soften at this. "I'm still _going _to brag about you," Judy smiled, "But I want to know because I care about you. Do you understand?"

Quinn nodded.

Her mother sighs, "Far too much time has been spent in this house ignoring feelings and I want that to end."

A small silence follows. Quinn considers her mother's words and comes to a decision.

"I quit the Cheerios to be in Glee club."

The incident from last week had still be weighing on her mind, so Judy snaps up the subject immediately, "Why not do both?"

The scowl is back on, but this time it's for someone else. "Coach Sylvester hates Glee club. She told us we had to pick one or the other. At first, I thought I wanted to be a Cheerio. I know I want to be a Cheerio, but... ."

"But you wanted to be in Glee club more?"

"I can't explain it. I'm sorry."

Judy shook her head gently and extended her hand across the dining table, which Quinn took. "If it makes you happy, then I want you to do it. Nothing more need be said. You made the right choice, sweetie." She squeezed her daughter's hand and released it. "Now get going on those green beans, don't think I didn't notice you haven't touched them yet."

Quinn grinned at her mom and shoved a forkful of the veggies into her mouth, putting on her most intense fake grimace.

_I can't believe how easy that was. Quit the Cheerios? Eat some green beans. Divorce rules._

* * *

It was a beautiful Wednesday morning. After the conversation with her mom and a good night's sleep paired with her nemesis' inevitable downfall, it didn't seem like anything could ruin her day. She passed the school's administrative offices and saw, as if on cue, Rachel being ushered along by Principal Figgins.

_Is it sick to hum "Don't Rain on My Parade?" Poor Berry, she'll probably be crushed. Too bad I have class, otherwise I could stand around and wait for her to commit one of her infamous storm-outs. I always have to bite my tongue when she stamps her feet. Like anyone could take her seriously? It makes her look-_

"Cute."

Quinn startled, "What?"

Brittany smiled at her, "Your headband. It's really cute. Where did you get it?"

"Oh," she reached up absentmindedly, "Mom found it for me at that vintage place on Main Street."

"Cool, that's where I got my hat!" the taller girl points to her fur-lined, earflap hat.

Quinn gives the hat a once-over and chuckles, "Very stylish, Brit."

"Getting to wear our regular clothes is my favorite part about not being a Cheerio." Brittany pauses, face turning serious. "Well, I guess my favorite-favorite part is being in Glee, but not wearing the uniform every day is my second favorite."

Patting her friend's arm, she says, "Me, too. Wanna walk to class?"

"Yeah!"

Quinn listens idly while Brittany talks more about clothes, but her mind continues to drift back to Rachel in the principal's office. It doesn't occur to her that the focus of her plan is Finn and yet she hasn't given him a thought since lunch the day before.

* * *

Between classes, Quinn sees a heated exchange going on between Finn and Rachel by the diva's locker.

_This must be it._ She smiles, feeling victorious. _Berry is probably freaking out right now about no longer being the quarterback. I bet Finn is getting an earful. _

Finn throws his hands up defensively as Rachel agitatedly emphasizes whatever point she happens to be making by repeatedly jabbing her finger into her palm. Quinn's smile grows.

_How were they ever a couple? It's like oil and water. I guess Finn would be the oil, since he's the thick one. Wait, what's that?_

Rachel shoves a small green box into Finn's stomach before slamming her locker shut and walking away. She breezes right past Quinn, clearly still livid, but doesn't make eye contact.

_Wow, she is really pissed. _

Turning around, she sees the brunette disappear into a restroom.

_Hmm. I could be a few minutes late to history. It would totally be worth it to watch Berry break down. _

She clicks her own locker shut and heads toward the bathroom. When she steps inside, she immediately sees Rachel at the far sink, splashing water on her face. Pulling a paper towel from the dispenser, she pats her face dry and turns to look at Quinn.

_No tears? _

"Can I help you with something, Quinn?"

_Oops, stared too long._

"No," Quinn turns to the first sink and makes to wash her hands.

"You really came in here just to wash your hands?"

"What does it look like, Berry?"

Rachel wads up the paper towel and walks it over to the trash can. She turns to face Quinn again, hands on her hips, "Contrary to what you may think, I am not _dumb_. You clearly followed me in here. What do you want?"

_I really did not think this through. If I come right out and ask about football, she's going to know it was me that went to Figgins. _

"Fine," she shakes the water from her hands and hastily snaps off a towel to dry them. "I saw you arguing with Finn and wanted to know what happened."

The other girl eyes her warily, "While I did, in fact, have an altercation with Finn, I don't see how that's any of your business."

"This is high school, everybody is in everybody's business."

"It wasn't about you, if that's why you're asking."

Quinn puts on her most innocent expression, "Oh? What was it about?"

"If you must know, Finn was patronizing me."

_That...doesn't sound like it has anything to do with being cut from the football team._

"Patronizing you?"

The smaller girl lets out a huff and folds her arms across her chest. "He said he wanted to apologize for the other day at football practice. He was doing an adequate job before he unceremoniously shoved his foot so far into his mouth I'm surprised he didn't wretch as a result."

Quinn barked out a laugh before she could stop herself, covering her mouth immediately afterward. She cleared her throat, "How did he do that?"

"He told me he shouldn't have gotten so mad over my playing in the Lima Bowl because the football part 'doesn't really mean anything' since it's a school spirit competition."

_Well, that's kind of accurate._ Lima Bowl was a longstanding rivalry game between the McKinley Titans and the Elida Bulldogs. It's an end-of-season football game, held the first Friday before Valentine's Day, where the school with the best demonstration of spirit and most exciting half-time show won the right to hold the trophy—a goofy looking cup of fake beans spray-painted with gold chrome. Both school's took it very seriously. It's a tradition, after all. _Still, he shouldn't have implied Rachel was only good enough to play in a goof-game. _

"When I told him I had every intention of continuing on the team next season he laughed at me. He thought I was _kidding_. I am a very dedicated person, something which he simply does not understand. I would not have asked to join the team if I didn't want to see it all the way through."

_She's talking like she's still on the team._

Quinn pressed, "And then what happened?"

"He 'whatevered' my sentiment and tried to give me a necklace. Apparently, he bought it for me before we broke up and only now thought to give it to me. When I told him I didn't think I could accept it, he accused me of being arrogant and difficult. Can you believe that?"

Her good mood was leaking out her ears. "I can't believe it," she said weakly.

"I know! Then he told me I should just accept his apology and get over it. And I told him I would accept his apology when he recognized me as a valid member of the football team and that's when he told me 'girls shouldn't play football.'"

"He didn't."

"He did! Well, I was so mad, I can't quite remember all the things I told him, but I gave him a piece of my mind _and_ gave him back his ridiculous necklace. Between him and Principal Figgins, my goodness!"

Quinn's eyes refocused, "What happened with Principal Figgins?"

"He tried to tell me I was some sort of insurance risk and that I wasn't allowed to play football. And I told _him_ that under Title IX, if there's no athletic team equivalent for female students, McKinley is required by law to allow me to play on the boys' team and that he'd hear from my fathers if he tried to remove me. What is it with people? Women can do anything that men can do! After this morning, I am more determined than ever to be the best quarterback this school has ever seen."

_Oh, dear God._

Rachel was riled up again, breathing heavily. Quinn was silent, struck dumb by the apparent total backfire of her plan. A few moments passed between them and Rachel finally glanced at her watch.

"Well, we should be in class. Thank you for listening, Quinn. I know you don't approve of my being on the team, but I think if you consider what's at stake in so far as standing up for equality, you might feel differently. Now, if you'll excuse me." Rachel walked out, leaving Quinn to stare blankly into the mirror.

* * *

"I was just doing what you told me!"

"Oh really? Did I _tell_ you to insult Berry and make an ass of yourself?"

Quinn had Finn backed up against a dead end of bookshelves in the library. His eyes kept darting around, trying and failing to find an escape route.

"You said to get back on Coach Beiste's good side. She told me the first step was to man-up and apologize to Rach, which I did."

"So I heard. Tell me, Finn, how exactly did belittling and dismissing Rachel play into your concept of 'apology?'"

"I didn't-"

"Quiet!"

The pair of them whipped around to see the stern-faced librarian, finger pressed against her lips in admonishment.

Finn started again, whispering, "I didn't do that. At least I didn't mean to. You say meaner stuff to her all the time."

"That's different."

"I-"

"Look, just... " Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just try not to upset her again. I'll have to think of something else."

"Maybe it's not such a big deal. I don't care if I play in the Lima Bowl and I know Coach will put me back on when summer practice starts."

"That's not the point."

Finn scrunched his eyebrows, "It isn't? I thought you were helping me because... Quinn? Hey, Quinn?"

She was already walking away.

* * *

_Think, think, think. There's got to be a way to keep her out of that game on Friday. _

Quinn was laying on the floor of her room, staring at the ceiling, hands resting on her stomach. Her index finger tapped out an anxious rhythm while she pondered her situation.

_Maybe if I told her there was an open-call audition for an Off-Broadway play that night... ._

Her musings were interrupted by her phone going off. Groaning, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and pulled the cell off her desk. Sam was calling.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hey, babe, you wanna come over and watch a movie?"

"Actually, I'm kind of busy. Homework."

"Really?"

Quinn cringed, "Yeah, sorry. Maybe tomorrow?"

He sighed heavily, "Mandatory practice, can't miss it."

_Such is the definition of 'mandatory,' Sam._

"That sucks, we can... " her eyebrows crept up a little, "Wait, did you say mandatory?"

"Yep. Practice the day before a game is always mandatory, otherwise you get benched. Coach's rule."

"That's really... " _Wonderful._ "...awful. How about we go out after the game Friday?"

"Okay, cool. Good luck with that homework, see you tomorrow."

"Mm hmm, bye."

Quinn was beaming.

* * *

She felt a little guilty. Brittany was a sweet girl and it wasn't really fair to suck her into Quinn's private campaign to become prom queen. But after the Finn fiasco, she knew she needed to step up her game.

_It's a good plan_, she thought to herself. _And I can trust Brittany. All we have to do is keep Berry from reaching practice this afternoon. No practice, no game. No game, no QB-status. The hard part is already done, really. Stealing those maintenance keys this morning was tricky stuff._

"Do you want me to explain it again?"

Brittany bit her lip and nodded.

"Okay. After Glee, you ask Rachel to help you find your math book."

"Right."

"And then have her follow you to the custodian's closet next to the art room."

"I've been in there before."

One of Quinn's eyebrows peaked, but she continued. "You ask her to look inside because-"

"Because I'm afraid of the dark and can't go in alone."

"Exactly right, Brit. And then?"

"Then I lock her in and call you."

"Perfect," Quinn smiled at the taller girl.

Brittany frowned a little. "Why are we doing this again?"

"Well, it's a joke." Brittany didn't semm convinced. "Look at it this way, if you heard a really funny story, who would you tell it to?"

"My cat?"

"... And?"

"San?"

"...Anybody else?"

"My friends?"

"Yes! Rachel is our friend and we don't want her to feel left out. Get it?"

Her face was the picture of consternation. "She's not gonna be mad at me, is she?"

"Of course not!" _God looks after fools and children, right? _"She'll think it's really funny." _I am probably going to Hell for this, but at least I'll be wearing a tiara while I'm there._ She pressed a small brass-colored key into Brittany's palm and strode away.

The rest of her day had passed agonizingly slowly. The minute hands on every clock in the building seemed to be purposefully dragging. At one point during math, Quinn swore she watched the second hand jump backward two notches before moving forward again. Finally, finally the last bell rang. She made meaningful eye contact with Brittany who saluted, _Subtle, Brit_, and then she made herself scarce.

Quinn sat in the library, checking her cell phone every few moments. It was almost 3:30 and she still hadn't heard from Brittany. Then, she got a text.

**→dont b mad at me k?**

She stared down at the screen, dread trickling into her chest.

**←Where are you?**

**→the closet like u said**

**←Stay put, I'll be right there.**

Quinn was moving so fast she slid a little as she came to a halt by the closet door. Brittany was nowhere to be seen. Tentatively, she tried the handle on the door. Locked.

_Maybe she pulled it off after all._

Her phone lit up, Brittany's name flashing on the display.

"Where are you?" she whispered into the receiver.

"In the closet."

Quinn's eyes slowly shifted to the door. "Is Berry in there with you?"

A pause, "No."

"The door is locked."

"Yeah, I think it does that on its own."

Her eyelids fluttered shut, "Do you still have the key I gave you?"

"Yeah! I didn't lose it."

Pressing her palm against her forehead, eyes open once more, "Slide it under the door, okay?"

"Okay!" The key shot out from the crack. Quinn bent down to pick it up and unlocked the door. Brittany stepped out. "Hey."

Quinn shut her phone. "Brittany, what happened?"

Still talking into her phone, the taller girl mumbled, "I got confused."

"Where's Berry?"

"She helped me look for a little while, but then she said she had to go to practice." Quinn pressed her lips together, waiting. "And then, I thought, somebody had to be in the closet for the joke to still work. But I forgot I had the key. Then I called you and you let me out. I did okay?"

Quinn reached forward, took Brittany's phone and shut it. "You did great, thanks, B."

"Yay!" Brittany hugged Quinn, took back her phone, and walked away.

_Why? Why is this my life?_


	4. Chapter 4

"You look like crap."

Quinn rolled her eyes, ignoring Santana's remark. Truth be told, she felt like crap. She hadn't been able to sleep, her mind had simply never stopped churning out worthless ploys to try to prevent Rachel from playing in today's game. Coach Beiste had caught wind of Finn's failed apology and told him he wasn't allowed to ride the bench or even suit up. Things were looking bleak on the prom-front for one Quinn Fabray.

Santana kicked the back of Quinn's chair, forcing the girl to address her. "What?" Quinn snarled.

"B told me what you had her do."

She put on her best poker face, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your little joke? Not that I don't approve of locking Yentl up, but why are you getting B to do your dirty work?"

The blonde merely shrugged and turned back around in her seat, "Misunderstanding."

"Like Hell it was," the other girl leaned forward, "I know you're up to something. I'm gonna figure it out. And when I do? I'll be paying you back for spilling about my surgery. Just because we're not Cheerios anymore doesn't mean I'm dropping it."

"Whatever."

_Kill me now._

* * *

The turnout for Lima Bowl was even bigger than usual, since the team had just nabbed the division title. Stands were packed with students, parents, faculty and even some alums. Hand-made signs featuring puns about Lima beans were being waved by grinning fans, covered in face paint. The team mascots were dancing around, pumping up the crowd. The game was about to start and everyone was having a fantastic time.

_Except me._

Quinn was bundled up against the February cold, wearing her red and white scarf and a matching knitted hat. She was sitting with the Glee kids between Tina and Mercedes. Earlier, Finn had momentarily made to sit by her, but her expression was enough to make him rethink it and grab a spot two rows behind instead. Kurt had shown up, dragging a sullen Blaine behind him. He leaned into Mercedes, hitching a thumb in the other Warbler's direction, and said simply, "Boy troubles." Mercedes shook her head, laughing, and reached out to pat his arm.

"I almost forgot," Kurt shouted over the crowd. "I want you all to come to Breadstix tomorrow night. We're putting on a performance for V-Day."

Quinn nodded absently, having all but forgotten that tomorrow would be the fourteenth. Her wandering mind was called down to the field, as the announcer's voice boomed over the crowd.

"Ladies and gentleman! Please turn your eyes to the field and give a warm welcome to our very own McKinley Titans!"

Hazel eyes narrowed, trained on the tiny figure sporting a number 1 leading the charge for the home team. The crowd cheered and clapped. Mercedes nudged Quinn in the side, triggering a half-hearted applause from the blonde. The announcer moved on, introducing the Elida Bulldogs which caused a wave of boos and hisses to issue from the bleachers. A referee waved from the 50-yard line, Rachel and the other team's captain jogged over. The coin toss clearly landed in Rachel's favor, as the small girl was jumping up and down, clapping. The ref gave a signal and the announcer boomed overhead once more.

"Titans win the coin toss! They're opting to receive the kickoff. Let's get this Lima Bowl underway!"

Despite herself, Quinn feels trepidation in her veins as she watches the tiny singer take her place on the turf.

Fifteen minutes later, Quinn is on her feet, more vested in this game of football than any game she's seen prior. Every time the ball goes into play, her knuckles go white gripping the railing in front of her as she leans out, trying to get a better view. Were she asked, she'd probably just say the crowd's enthusiasm is contagious.

The Titans are winning by two touchdowns at the end of the first half, thanks to a lot of rather skillful plays by one Rachel Berry. Sam's description from the other day echoes through Quinn's mind as she replays all the girl's zigzagging runs and impressively accurate passes. Mercedes thought it would be better if Quinn didn't watch the Cheerios perform during the half-time show, so the pair offer to make a concession run for everybody. The game is already back on when they return. Quinn flings a hot dog into Blaine's lap and thrusts a soda into Tina's hands so she can get back to her spot on the railing.

Four minutes into the third quarter, Quinn's heart almost shoots out of her throat as she watches Rachel get tackled for the first time. A few bodies are peeled off and Sam crouches over his quarterback. Looking a bit rumpled, but no worse for wear, the brunette takes an arm from the her teammate and stands up. She adjusts her helmet momentarily, then turns to wave at the crowd as though she's won an award.

_Thank God. That guy was huge._

With a few seconds left in the same quarter, Rachel gets sacked again. A stream of obscenities comes flying out of Quinn's mouth directed at the perpetrator. Mercedes and Tina share a confused look behind her back. She's far too transfixed with the action to notice. Half an hour later, the game draws to an end, with McKinley winning by 8 points. Having already shouted herself hoarse, Quinn sticks two fingers in her mouth and whistles for the victory. The two football teams do a quick series of "good game" high-fives before lining up to hear the overall winner of the competition. A chorus of "We Will Rock You" picks up while the judges deliberate. The stadium speakers crackle to life.

"What a great game! Let's hear it for those football players!" The crowd hoots and hollers for a few moments and the announcer continues. "I have to say, tonight's Lima Bowl is one for the record books. After careful consideration, the judges have come to a unanimous vote! Your hands-down, bean-wielding champions this year are … THE TITANS!"

The audience erupts in wild cheers and a mob pours out onto the field. A referee runs the coveted cup of Lima beans out to Rachel, who hoists it as high up as she can. All of the Glee club rush the field as well, yelling and clapping for their friends. Even though division was a bigger game, something about this night feels more exhilarating. Everyone is jumping and bouncing together. Quinn is grinning, her devices on the prom buried deep in her subconscious, as she hugs anybody who crosses her path. The trophy is passing from hand-to-hand amongst the players, each one enjoying the silly glory of chromed, fake beans. In all the excitement, Quinn turns and wraps her arms around another football player, only to find herself looking down at a glowing Rachel Berry.

The two stare at each other for a beat before Quinn relinquishes her hold and takes a step back. Her brain is flooded with a jumble of thoughts—_she survived the game, there are stars on her helmet, her performance tonight definitely landed her a permanent position as quarterback, what am I going to do about the prom_, but the most pressing problem on her mind is an apparent lack of things to say. Rachel notices the hang-time and promptly fills the void.

"We won!"

It's not much, but it's enough. Quinn smiles and nods, "Yeah!" Before she has to come up with anything further, Sam practically knocks her over from the side with a crushing hug. Rachel laughs and turns away, vanishing into the crowd. The blonde girl feels a strange mix of relief and regret as she returns her boyfriend's hug, eying the previously occupied space.

* * *

Hanging out at the Kewpee Burger after the game wasn't exactly what Quinn had in mind when she told Sam they could spend time together, but she went along with it. Everyone was still wired after winning the Lima Bowl and clamoring away about the game's highlights. She was sipping a strawberry shake, listening to Rachel recount, in excruciating detail, her experiences.

The diva was gesturing dramatically, a few knuckles wrapped in athletic tape, hair still in braids and smudges of eye black remained on her cheeks. "In those few moments, I knew what I had to do. No one was open, the ball was in my hands...it was destiny. I ran. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hygienically challenged number 43 lumbering toward me," Quinn rolled her eyes. "Even though he was twice my size, I knew I had to be brave. I barreled ahead, bracing for the terrible impact I knew was to come, when suddenly-"

"BAM! The Puckmesiter saves the day!" Puck reaches over to give Mike a high-five and smirks at Lauren.

Rachel drops her hands in annoyance, "Yes, Noah. Your timing was impeccable. Anyway," the hands go back up and she continues her tale of the thirty-yard dash that first gained them the upper hand during the second quarter.

An hour passes and Quinn is starting to feel drowsiness set in. She elbows Sam and tosses her head at the door. He nods and turns back to the group at large.

"I think me and Quinn are headed out. Goodnight guys. Great game."

A chorus of "goodnights" and "see yas" fire off around the small diner. Rachel is the last one to say goodbye.

"Thank you again for all your hard work, Sam. See you later! Goodnight, Quinn."

Maybe it's the long day, the lack of sleep, the excitement from the game. Whatever it is, Quinn doesn't realize it's happening until it's already slipped out. "G'night, Rachel."

No one else catches the significance. The only acknowledgment is an almost imperceptible widening of Rachel's eyes and a flicker in Quinn's gaze. She turns, taking Sam's arm, and walks out. But the thought stays: _No insult. No nickname. I've never used her first name while talking to her until just now. _

* * *

Saturday, Quinn sleeps in until nearly lunchtime. Peaking open one bleary eye, she evaluates the amount of sunlight flooding her room.

_Ugh, probably time to get up._

Kicking off her covers and stretching, she picks up her phone off the nightstand.

**→Happy Valentine's Day! Love you!**

Quinn frowns. The thoughtfulness of Sam's text, sending a message even knowing they'll see each other later that day, fills her with guilt. She hesitates, trying to decide how to reply.

**←Thanks, you're so sweet! xo **

Love isn't a word Quinn likes to toss around. Yes, she has told Sam that she loves him, but it's hard to explain what she's really thinking when she says it. "I appreciate you and am very grateful that you think you love me, but that's a very strong word and I'd rather just say I like you. Or I enjoy you. So thanks for your heart, I'll just set it here on my shelf next to my favorite novel and a picture from the time I went to Disneyland. Sound fair?"

She dropped the phone onto her bed, tucked her feet into her slippers and padded out the door in search of some breakfast. Or maybe by now it would be brunch.

"Morning, Mom."

"Just barely," Judy looked up from her newspaper. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

"Take a seat, I'll make pancakes."

Quinn smiled and plopped herself down on a stool at the kitchen bar, "Awesome."

A few minutes later, Quinn had a plateful of heart-shaped pancakes with a side of bacon.

"Happy Valentine's," Judy said, indicating the plate. "What are you and Sam getting up to today?" she poured Quinn some orange juice.

Quinn drizzled syrup onto her cakes, paused for a moment, shrugged, and proceeded to pour syrup onto the bacon, too. "Dinner at Breadstix."

"Sounds nice, what are you going to wear?"

"Dunno, hadn't really planned it out yet," she managed through a full mouth.

"I'm sure you'll look beautiful, whatever you decide. Sam is a lucky boy. Speaking of planning outfits, you and I should start the hunt for that perfect prom dress soon." She smiled, ruffling her daughter's hair and walked back out to the living room.

Quinn looked down at her plate, her previous appetite ebbing away.

* * *

Quinn and Sam scooted into a booth facing the impromptu stage just as Kurt tapped on the microphone.

"Testing, one-two-three! Test-testing! One-two-three. All right. So, happy Valentine's Day everybody. For those of you Breadstix patrons who don't know who I am, I am Kurt Hummel and welcome to my first ever Lonely Hearts Club dinner." He chuckled softly before continuing, "Whether you are single with hope or are madly in love and are here because I forced you to come out and support me, sit back and enjoy. And to all the singles out there, this is our year."

Sam wrapped his arm around his girlfriend as the Warblers began singing "Silly Love Songs." They watched together as Blaine danced around, addressing the lyrics to various customers table-by-table. Quinn found her gaze wandering over to Rachel, who was sitting in a booth near the front with Mercedes, Mike and Tina.

_Single right now, but I bet on Monday she gets a deluge of offers. How weird will that be? Some guy strutting around school saying that he's dating the quarterback. _

And then it hit her. The idea was ludicrous. Worse than ludicrous, it was downright insane. She watched as Kurt leaned in to hug Rachel and Mercedes before retreating to the stage, wrapping up the song.

_If I'm going to be the prom queen, I need to be dating the quarterback._

The song ended and everyone except Quinn clapped for the Warblers. She carried on, staring at Rachel, as though in a trance.

_Rachel is the quarterback._

"It's the only way," she muttered.

"What?" Sam asked.

Quinn snapped her attention away from the brunette, who was now talking fervently with Kurt.

"Nothing."

Sam gave her a quizzical look, but let the matter drop. He picked up a menu and began reading silently.

_It really is the only way._

She nodded resolutely before picking up her own menu. Her eyes glided across the laminated sheet, but the words were lost on her.

_I need to be Rachel Berry's girlfriend._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: So again, thank you everybody for the kind reviews. Updates may experience a small hiccup as Spring quarter is starting up for me. First half of this chapter is maybe a touch awkward-there are a lot of things the show writers seem to like to light on fire in Quinn's character development and then only occasionally do a drive-by with the squirt gun to put it out. So the first part is a super meager attempt to square up Quinn's character for me and then the second half is the beginning of Faberry madness. Enjoy guys. :)_

* * *

Sunday church services had taken on a different meaning for Quinn since the events of the previous year. Religion had always been a constant presence for her growing up, but after the pregnancy, even the most solidified things in her life seemed to dissolve. For a while, she felt like every relationship she had was ruined—including her relationship with God.

Living with Mercedes turned out to be a saving grace on so many levels. She was able to more fully remove herself from the stress surrounding Finn and Puck. It gave her time and space for introspection, to help her understand what kind of person she was, who she wanted to become. It also gave her an insight into a faith community that found tremendous joy, instead of tremendous guilt, in religion. When she moved back in with her mother, she had tentatively suggested trying out a different church. Judy had been more than willing to oblige, both wanting to make her daughter happy and glad to avoid the possibility of running into her estranged, soon to be ex-husband.

There wasn't exactly a plethora of churches to choose from in Lima, but the pair of them made the rounds for a few weeks and eventually settled. And it was there, in that small but welcoming building, that Quinn was currently trying to keep her facial muscles under control while she listened to the man currently speaking.

"... and because of that, friends and neighbors, we have made the decision to embrace every walk of life. We are proud to say our church is now open and affirming to all couples."

_Whoa._

Quinn glanced over at her mother, who was making a quizzical face, before quickly resettling her gaze up front. The services moved on, discussion of some passages from the Bible and a few morality anecdotes were told—the usual. At the end, there was a little more hubbub in the crowd, but nothing else. Her mother chatted politely with a few other families before they cleared out, heading home. The car ride was silent, with Quinn deep in thought.

_The timing of that is just...incredibly weird. Does God know my plan for prom queen?_ Her eyes glanced toward the sky and then back down. _Okay, that's ridiculous, I know. But come on. Our church starts rooting for same-sex couples the day after I decide to date a girl? Wow._

Her thoughts are interrupted when they pull up to the driveway—Sam's truck is parked on the street in front of their house. Quinn felt a tremor of panic course through her.

_Why is he here? I wanted time to plan a break up speech, this is horrible. Damn, damn, damn it._

Judy smiled and waved to Sam as she stepped out of the car. Seeing the ladies arrive home, he had hopped out of his vehicle and trotted over. He wasn't quite in time to get Quinn's door and instead was almost hit by it when she kicked it open herself.

Jumping back a little, but grinning, he said, "Hey, Quinn." She smiled despite her frustrated inner monologue. "I know it's a little cold, but it was so sunny out—thought maybe you'd like to go on a walk? Grab some hot cocoa and hit the park?"

_No, no, no, no... ._

"Sure, just let me change first."

"Cool," Sam followed them inside. He waited in the kitchen, chatting with Judy, while Quinn was upstairs flinging herself around her bedroom in angst.

_What am I going to tell him? It can't wait—we have to break up—I have to start working on Berry right away tomorrow. Her popularity is going to be through the roof and I can't let anyone get their foot in the door before me. _She flung a shirt over her shoulder from the closet onto her bed and started digging around in her pile of shoes. _Of course, it's not like I can waltz right up to Rachel and ask her on a date. She probably …. oh. _Quinn straightened, a deep frown creasing her face. _What if she doesn't want to date me? We're not even really friends and what if she doesn't, I mean her dads yeah, but if.. ._ For the first time, she begins to question the feasibility of her plan. A knock at her door brings her out of her thoughts.

"Quinnie, I'm going to run to the store—take your keys with you when you leave."

"Okay, Mom. Tell Sam just another minute." Quinn looked down; she was holding two different shoes.

_Okay, this needs to stop. Nothing should make me this anxious. I just need to make a plan._ She swapped out one of the shoes for the correct match and walked over to her bed. _Step one, break up with Sam. Do I really have to have a reason? Not really. I'm not going to give him the it's-not-you-it's-me, but something like it will be fine. _Changing out of her formal clothes, she continued her plotting. _Step two...step two needs a little adjustment. Step two, part A—make Rachel my friend. I can do that. She has offered up her friendship in the past. More than once._ A tightness briefly overtakes her chest, but she pushes on.

_I know how to be charming, to be friendly. And, let's face it, she doesn't have a lot of friends. It won't be hard. Then, step two, part B—we start dating. I may have to ask her, I'm not sure I can play the long game and hope for her to ask me in time for us to start campaigning for prom royalty. Two girls for prom king and queen? I bet a little nudge from me would send Rachel right into Figgins' office demanding equal opportunity prom voting._ She smiles while pulling on her shoes, imagining Rachel threatening ACLU-related actions against the school. Crossing the room once more, she examines her reflection in the mirror.

"You can do this, Fabray."

* * *

The two of them have been sitting on the swings in silence for a few minutes. It really was quite cold, colder than expected. Quinn picked uncomfortably at the paper sleeve around her hot chocolate, Sam had his cup-free hand wrapped around the chain of his swing.

"So... " Sam had tried and failed a few times to make small talk, each conversation dying out after a few exchanges. He was racking his brain, hoping to come up with something his girlfriend would be interested in talking about.

Quinn tamped down her nerves as best she could and drew in a breath, "Sam, can I—we just... I need to... I-I have something I need to say."

The blond boy looked over, "Okay?"

"I don't think this is working," she couldn't even make eye-contact with him.

"What? What's not working?"

She sighed. "Us."

Sam immediately set aside his cup and dropped out of his swing, kneeling in front of Quinn. "What are you talking about? Did I do something wrong?"

Finally daring to look at the stricken boy, she said hurriedly said, "No! No, Sam. You're—you're great, really. And some girl is going to be so lucky to have you. I just. You and I, it doesn't feel right. For me."

He wrapped his hands around hers, still around her cup. "Is there something I'm not doing? Please, Quinn? I don't get this."

The guilt welled up inside of her, tears pricking her eyes. "It's not...it's not... ."

"Is this about Finn?" his expression shifted, darkened.

Choking out a laugh, "No, this is definitely not about Finn." She slipped one of her hands free and cupped his cheek. "You have been nothing but sweet and patient with me, and I am so grateful for that. But our relationship, it doesn't feel real to me." She bit her lip, unsure of where her words were coming from, but she felt like she was on to something. "I care about you and I don't want to see you hurt. If I'm honest with myself, with you, I just... . There's nothing romantic about my feelings for you. When you first approached me, I... ." She hesitated, settling on the truth, "I wasn't even sure then if I was attracted to you, but I took your offer because I knew how it would look. A Cheerio and a football player."

Sam looked crushed and made to pull away.

"Please, Sam. I'm not finished." His shoulders sagged, but he stayed. "The longer we were together, the more I liked you. You can be a complete doofus," she smiled sadly, "but it's kind of endearing. What I've realized though, being with you, I care about you like a friend. I want good things for you, for you to be happy, but I can't pretend any longer that I think I'm the girl to give you those things. I don't want to be that girl." Quinn had never vocalized any of this, to herself or otherwise, before now. It was oddly freeing to think it and then say it aloud. "I love you, Sam, but I can't be your girlfriend."

He was quiet for a moment, processing everything. "Are you sure?" It was barely above a whisper.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. But, yes, I'm sure."

Sam rocked back a little, not letting go of her other hand. His eyes were shining, he was clearly struggling—trying not to cry. "Thank you for telling me the truth." All Quinn could do was nod. He nodded back and slowly released his grip, then slouched back into the swing. "I guess I'm not as surprised as I could have been."

Quinn wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket, "Why is that?" _I was surprised by what I said._

He shrugged, dejectedly. "I always felt like you had a lot on your mind, but that it was never about me."

The comment momentarily stunned her. It was perceptive, eerily accurate. More so than she could admit to herself. He wasn't psychic, so he couldn't know, but even in that moment, her mind wasn't entirely focused on him. Certainly a good portion of her headspace was devoted to their discussion right now. But the biggest slice of her thoughts? They were about someone else: Rachel Berry.

* * *

Sam gave her a hug when he dropped her off. She still felt bad, but it had been the smoothest and possibly the most sincere break-up of her dating life. Quinn was relieved to find her mother was still at the store when she got home, giving her some time to herself to think. She scooped up her hastily discarded clothes and put them in the hamper. Then, she hunkered down on the floor with a notebook and a pen. Across the top of a blank page she scrawled, "Operation Berry Be-Mine" and grinned to herself.

_Time to plan the plan._

* * *

If looks could kill, three boys would be taking their last agonizing breaths on the floor of McKinley's hallway. Quinn's shoulders were tense, her fingers were crushing dents into her binder. And she was glaring. She had hoped to arrive at school early enough to catch Rachel on her own. Apparently, so had several members of the school population. She looked on, trying to decide what to do, as the young men in question hovered around the singer-turned-quarterback.

_I bet they aren't even listening to what she's saying. Laughing, like they get her jokes. Those assho-_

"Hey girl," Mercedes strolled up next to her.

"Hey," she said, feebly.

"Something wrong?"

"Kind of," she spared one last glance to Rachel before turning to face her friend, "Sam and I broke up this weekend."

Immediately sympathetic, Mercedes put a hand on her wrist, "Oh my goodness! Dish it, what happened?"

On the walk to class, Quinn gave the short version of her break-up story. As she finished, the other girl nodded sagely, "That makes sense. Not to harsh on ya'll, but it _was_ an awful lot of blonde hair to look at when you were together." Quinn laughed, rolling her eyes, as her friend put up her hands defensively, "Just sayin'."

"Well, it's better this way. I wasn't being fair to him."

"Mmhmm. You got your eye on someone new?"

_Oh my goodness, I don't know. Maybe._

"Nobody's lining up," she mugged. She let Mercedes enter the classroom first, looking back down the hall again to where Rachel stood, her fan-following having doubled in the minutes since. "Not yet anyway."

* * *

All morning, Quinn tried to catch Rachel in the halls. Every time, the small girl was mobbed by guys and girls alike, all wanting to be seen with the school football hero. At first, Rachel seemed excited about all the attention—a huge grin gracing her face. But by afternoon, Quinn noticed the strained quality to her expression. Still smiling, however, her eyes looked trapped. It was the last passing period of the day when the blonde decided to quit waiting for her turn and simply took the reigns.

Quinn was a few steps away, listening to the conversation taking place. Rachel had just let out a nervous laugh. The sandy-haired boy in front of her grinned stupidly and reached his hand up behind his neck, "So, Rach, I was wondering if maybe you and me could-"

"I'm sorry! Am I interrupting?" Quinn nudged in and smiled broadly at Rachel, not actually deigning to look at the boy she had cut off."

"Quinn!" Rachel looked genuinely relieved, "No, not interrupting at all!" The boy scowled. "In fact, you're just who I was looking for. Could you excuse us?" He looked like he was about to protest his abrupt dismissal when the diva lurched forward, hooking her arm with Quinn and said decisively, "Girl talk." Without another glance, she hauled Quinn away toward a small recess by the water fountains.

Once they were somewhat out of the way, Rachel dropped Quinn's arm. "Sorry about that. It is so tiring being this popular. I simply cannot fathom how you used to do this all the time." She shot a hesitant look out into the hall again before turning back. "I really did want to talk to you, though."

Quinn had bristled slightly at the reference to her _former_ popularity, but softened immediately after hearing Rachel wanted to talk to her. "Me?"

"Yes, you," she was smiling, but it was quickly replaced with a look of deep concern. "It's none of my business, but having gone through the trials of a separation recently myself, I wanted to extend my sincerest empathy for your situation... " Quinn blinked at her, not following. "I heard. About you and Sam."

"Oh! Right, that." _Forget your brain, Fabray? Get your head in this game. _"We just weren't working out." She sighed, trying her best to look forlorn, hoping to garner more pity.

"That's too bad, but very mature of you to be able to recognize it." It looked like she had more to say, but seemed to think better of it. "Were you... did you have... it looked like you had something to say to me? When you walked up?"

_Show time._

Quinn smiled shyly, "Yeah, actually. I wanted to apologize." Warm, brown eyes stared back at her in confusion. "About doubting you. The whole football thing. You were really amazing at the game this weekend and I thought about what you said—girls being able to do anything guys can do. I think it's really admirable, you taking the risk to be on the team. You had every right to be out on that field. So... ."

_No retort, Berry? I've rendered her speechless. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I am _that_ good._

The blonde kept going, "I'm sorry about what I said." No answer, "Hopefully I did a better job apologizing than Finn."

Though still clearly taken aback, the last comment made her smile. "It would be hard to do worse," Quinn's eyebrows shot up, but Rachel clarified, "I mean, not that what you said wasn't very much appreciated. I'm flattered, Quinn, genuinely. Thank you, I'm sure it wasn't easy to say."

She shrugged, "I can admit when I'm wrong. It just doesn't happen very often." It was Rachel's turn to raise her eyebrows, but Quinn ignored it. "Well, we should get going. Don't wanna miss Glee." The shorter girl nodded her assent. The blonde's eyes unfocused for a moment, but then she snapped back with a curt nod. Rachel was about to ask what was up, when she found herself hooked arm-and-arm again being led out into the traffic of the hallway. The former head Cheerio was walking her to class. In fact, Quinn practically looked smug walking beside her.

Bombarded by her peers, a surprise apology and now this. All things considered, it had been the strangest Monday of Rachel's life.

* * *

Mercedes missed Kurt. She still called him all the time and they saw each other for the occasional weekend shopping trip, but high school just wasn't the same without him. Somebody to talk fashion with, compare notes on hot boys, discretely make jokes about their fellow Glee-clubbers. Right about now, she was wishing for him so she could a second opinion on Quinn's sanity. True, the girl had just split with her boyfriend, but it didn't make what was happening in front of her any less mystifying. Quinn had marched into the choir room, arm linked with Rachel Berry.

To be clear, her dismay wasn't about Rachel. Mercedes had worked past her initial annoyance with the other diva and they'd formed a friendship. And, of course, she'd bonded with Quinn the previous year. But Quinn and Rachel together? It was like ice cream and ketchup in her mind. Her befuddlement only deepened when Quinn sat by the smaller girl. Mercedes could tell Rachel was almost as confused as she was by the look on her face. She discretely pulled out her phone and opened a text as Mr. Schuester started the lesson.

"Okay gang, settle down," he smiled at his class. "So, first off, let's hear it for our footballers winning another big game this weekend." The kids clapped—Quinn sat up a little straighter, clapping first toward Rachel and then turned to beam at everyone in the room. Beside her, the brunette was smiling, but she was also eying Quinn dubiously. Mr. Schue spread out his hands, calling for quiet. "The game actually helped spark my idea for this week's assignment," he turned and headed over to the whiteboard.

A few of the students rolled their eyes as he began to write. Mercedes took the opportunity to tap out a message to Kurt.

**→Something is up w Q. She and sam broke up.**

Capping his pen, Mr. Schue spun in place, tossed a thumb over his shoulder and said the word he had just penned, "Inspiration."

"That's like, when you sweat a lot."

"Not quite, Brittany," the teacher sighed. "I want you guys to pick a song that really inspires you. Something that never fails to motivate you." The Gleeks started to talk amongst themselves. Mercedes looked over at Quinn was talking and grinning maniacally at Rachel when she felt her phone rumble in her pocket.

**←Not surprised. I told you that boy and his bleached hair were, as Brit would say, capital G gay.**

Smiling and rolling her eyes, she started to reply when Mr. Schuester called for attention again. "Put some thought into this one, guys. I want you to figure out what about the song touches you. Hey, it's Monday. How about we call that good enough?" He grinned, always trying to be the cool guy with a bunch of teenagers. Everyone vocalized agreement and thanks before bustling toward the door.

Mercedes hung back for a second to finish her text to Kurt. She watched as Rachel left the classroom, looking warily over her shoulder as a smiling Quinn trailed behind her.

**→That is NOT why they broke up :p but something else is goin on. Definitely weird.**

Her phone vibrated again before she was out the door.

**←Oooh, a mystery! Call me tonight, I'm dying to hear about it. ;)**

**→Totally.**

* * *

_You can do this. Be casual._

After being let out of Glee early, Quinn made a brief stop at her own locker before slipping silently over to Rachel's. The smaller girl was glancing down at her planner to help her remember what books she would need to take home. Bag finally packed, she swung her locker door closed and let out a tiny squeak at discovering the blonde lurking just next to her.

"Sorry!" She wasn't, actually. _Keeping Berry off-balance is probably to my advantage._ "I was hoping to talk to you before you left." Rachel's expression slid from startled to guarded. "I was wondering if you could-"

"Quinn?" The brunette didn't wait for her objection to be acknowledged, "I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what is going on here?"

_Don't panic, you can talk your way through this. Let's start with denial._

"What are you talking about?"

Rachel put a hand on her hip, having sensed the slight hesitation, "Do your apology and sudden niceness have anything to do with my new found popularity?"

Quinn blanched. _Oh God, panic. Now panic._ "N-no! Of course not. I-"

Wariness changed to reproach, "Be honest, please."

Defiance flared up in the former cheer captain, "Look, Berry, I wanted to ask for help me with my English essay."

The brunette's face fell slightly, "This is about an essay? Since when do you need help with English?"

_This is going horribly. Why does she look so sad? It's...it's distracting. Big sad eyes. Damn it._

Quinn felt flustered and was sure that she looked it. She inhaled deeply through her nose and spoke slowly. "I just needed someone to look it over. We both know you're very...verbose. I thought you would probably be a good writer and could proofread it for me." The corners of Rachel's mouth quirked a little and her eyes darted off to the side before coming back, the compliment paired with the talkativeness slight were apparently well-received. "I was going to offer to buy you coffee for helping me."

Unable to stop herself, Rachel interrupted, "I don't drink coffee. Coffee has known negative-"

"Rachel," Quinn's eyes practically rolled out of her head, "I can buy you whatever. Coffee, tea, soy milk, water."

"You don't usually have to purchase water, Quinn."

Her temper was about to get the better of her when she realized the shorter girl was only teasing her. She smiled which triggered a small smile in return from Rachel. "I know the timing is a little suspect, but... ." Quinn wasn't sure what to say. The pause was starting to give her away, which is how she found herself blurting the first thing that came to mind. "You've tried to be my friend. I've mostly paid you back by being a bitch." The other girl nodded mutely, which made her flinch, "I'm done with that."

_I'm not sure she's buying it._

Quinn's hands had gone clammy; the silence between them pushing her to keep talking. "I'd like to try being your friend. This is me trying, Rachel."

_Please believe me, please believe me._

The little quarterback nodded, "I apologize for calling your motives into question, but I think you can understand my skepticism." Quinn winced. "I accept your offer. When is your essay due?"

The blonde gave a genuine, toothy smile, "Friday."

Rachel dropped her bag on the ground and rummaged, pulling out her planner. "I can meet you Wednesday night at 7. The Lima Bean?"

"Great, that's perfect."

A tiny tongue peaked out of the brunette's mouth as she carefully wrote. Almost to herself, she repeated the note out loud, "Quinn, coffee date, 7pm." Her eyes flashed up briefly, "I mean, not a 'date' date, but. You know. An engagement. A meeting."

Quinn just continued to smile, "Right."

"Well, see you later, then."

"Later, Rachel."

Quinn watched her walk away.

_It's _so_ a date._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Yikes, a bit of a while since an update. Combo writer's block and school work, but I found some time to update today. Very likely at least one more update this weekend. Plot notes are scribbled all over my house right now. :) Fun extra, Quinn's plans are linked my profile. Cheers, lads._

* * *

Most of Quinn's Monday night was spent revising her told herself that it was because she wanted a good grade and that it was not directly related to impressing Rachel. Her Tuesday night was another detailed round of planning.

_Essay? Check. Perfect outfit? Check. Reserve of small talk and compliments? Well... ._

Staring down at her master plan, she thoughtfully tapped a pencil against her lower lip. She had started two lists, one in each margin. A list of topics to bring up to keep the conversation flowing and the other list, features she could praise. The list of compliments was easily double the list of things Quinn could think of to talk about with the other girl.

_She never really talks about her hobbies. She's always talking about performances—at least, until somebody shuts her down._

With knitted brows, she added "awards" to the first list. She would keep the conversation going even if it meant listening to the tale behind every trophy the diva had ever won. Another twenty minutes of attempted brainstorming left her with a few more details and the beginnings of a tiara doodled at the bottom of the page. Her sleep that night was fitful, and when she did sleep, she dreamt of Rachel Berry.

* * *

Quinn felt confident as she strode toward the entrance to the coffee shop.

_Exactly five minutes early, just like I wanted. That gives me time to review my list before-_

She came to a halt two paces inside the door. Rachel was smiling shyly and waving from a small table toward the back of the shop.

_Already here? How early did that little freak show up?_

Recovering quickly, she put on her best show face and headed over.

"Good evening, Quinn."

"You're early."

Rachel's fingers toyed with the paper sleeve covering her cup, "Whenever possible, I try to be at least ten, if not fifteen, minutes early to any appointment."

Quinn had started to bite the inside of her cheek and forced herself to relax her face before asking, "So how long have you been here?"

The seated girl's face flushed slightly, "Approximately seventeen minutes."

"Uh huh," Quinn set her notebook down and dug around in her bag, extracting her billfold. "And you already got your drink. I was supposed to do that."

"Oh, that wasn't necessary at all. You don't have to bribe me, I'm always happy to help a fellow Glee-clubber."

"I wanted to, Rachel." The other girl shrugged her shoulders in a conciliatory fashion. "Well, I'm gonna go get my coffee. Is there anything else you might let me get you?"

Rachel cocked her head and let out an exaggerated, "Wel-l-l-l." _Okay, that was pretty cute. I mean, for her._ "Now that you mention it, I think I saw vegan Nanaimo bars... ."

"Done. I'll be right back."

After giving the barista her order, Quinn leaned against the counter and idly rearranged the magnetic poetry haphazardly strewn along the metal display beside the register.

_So much for being early. I guess I should have anticipated she would do be obscenely punctual. Keep it in mind for next time—need to write it down on the master list. The list I left in the notebook back on the table, damn it._

She peered quickly over her shoulder and saw Rachel hadn't touched the notebook, opting instead to continue shredding her cup sleeve.

_Good. _Her attention went back to the cluster of verbs and nouns on display. _I wish she would have waited for me to get her drink. It's just.. more date-like. The dessert will have to do. _

"Caramel macchiato for … Quinn?" a different barista pushed the cup across the counter toward her. "And you had a brownie?"

"A Nanaimo bar, please. Uh, one of the vegan ones."

"Right, right," a moment later she was walking back to Rachel with a cup in one hand and a small plate in the other, billfold tucked underneath. A new phrase on the poetry board now read, "we | could | discover | love".

"Here you go," she set the plate in front of the tiny quarterback, who clapped and grinned as Quinn took her seat.

"Thank you! It looks fantastic."

Quinn smiled into her cup as she took a sip, immediately regretting it. _Ack! Too hot. _The hiss that escaped her lips drew the other girl's attention.

"Burn yourself?" A sheepish nod. Rachel gave her her best sympathetic look, "You should always wait at least-"

"I know, I know. I just forgot."

Rachel reached across the table and took the cup from her, causing their fingers to touch for a moment. The brief contact sent a small tingle along the back of Quinn's hand, but before she could register it, the other girl was talking again.

"If you take the lid off and stir for a while, it will cool down faster. Like so," she popped off the lid and twirled the stir straw back and forth. "While the lid is on, the heat from the surface of the liquid simply circulates and the beverage retains its temperature longer. Freeing the heat and introducing a small current of movement helps it dissipate." Rachel glanced up into amused eyes and gave a soft smile. "It's something my dad told me when I was little."

"Oh yeah?"

Still stirring, she let her gaze wander, "Yes. I didn't have a lot of patience when I was younger. Whenever I had hot chocolate, I would inevitably scald my tongue and worry that nothing would ever taste right again."

Quinn gave a small chuckle and raised an eyebrow, "I'm supposed to believe you're _more _patient now?"

Rachel gaped at her, about to protest, when she held up a hand, "Kidding."

Her smile reemerged as she pushed the cup back toward the blonde, "Now I think maybe you deserved to burn your tongue."

Quinn accepted the cup and took over stirring. There was a pause, not exactly awkward. _Heavy. It feels heavy._ Both girls attempted to break the feeling at the same time.

"We should start-"

"I need to-"

Quinn waved her hand, "You go."

The other girl shook her head, "You first."

"I was just going to say we should start on the paper."

"Yes, we should start. I'm actually going to run to the ladies' room and then I'll be ready to concentrate on editing."

"Sure, okay." _Should I say something else? Ah, no. She's getting up._

"One minute," Rachel stood, "Well, perhaps two minutes. Three at most."

"Go, Rachel."

Rachel nodded and walked away. When she was out of sight, Quinn leaned forward and grabbed the other drink. Pulling a pen from the spiral binding and then snapping the notebook open to her master plan, she rotated the mostly empty cup in her hand.

_Where, where... . Ah, here._ She nudged the sleeve down some._ "Soy ChL" Hmm... ._ Quinn inhaled discretely at the lid opening. _Ah ha. Soy, chai latte. I've got your number. _She wrote the drink order down in her notes and put a box around it before quickly replacing the cup and flipping to the first pocket divider in the notebook. She produced a copy of her essay from the inset and placed it in front of Rachel's seat. _I can't believe I'm actually nervous. I mean, it's a good paper. What if she really is a good writer? A better writer than I am? _

Before she could get too wrapped up in her own thoughts, Rachel returned. The other girl nodded as she sat down and reached under the table, pulling out a canary yellow attache case that had gone unnoticed until now. _The case even has her initials embroidered on it. Where do you get something like that? _With a purely business face, she began to methodically extract items. Quinn watched bemused as two pair of pens, red and green, three high-lighters, yellow, pink and orange, a set of pastel sticky flags, and a pad of legal paper were laid out on the table beside her essay. Rachel had started to close the various pouches when she let out a small noise.

"Almost forgot!"

She pulled out a packet of foil star stickers and then, satisfied that she had everything, stowed the bag back underneath the table.

"What is... all of that?"

"My English editing equipment." She grinned, pleased with her alliteration.

"I see," Quinn's feeling about this part of the plan continued to slide along a downward slope.

"So tell me, what was the nature of the assignment?"

Blinking hard a few times, Quinn looked back up at Rachel. "We had to compare and contrast a book with its film counterpart."

"Oh, those are fun. What did you pick?"

_Fun?_ "Sofia Coppola's _Marie Antoinette_. It's loosely based on _Marie Antoinette: The Journey_ by Antonia Fraser. And Sofia used another author as a historical reference, but I didn't want to read both books."

"An interesting choice," she picked up the corner of the essay, "What did you think?"

Quinn shrugged, succumbing to the discomfort she was feeling having her homework inspected so thoroughly, "I dunno."

A brunette eyebrow arched, "You wrote a whole paper on the premise of 'I dunno'?"

"Of course not," she rolled her eyes and sighed. "The book was pretty interesting, but I liked how the movie really humanized the queen. A lot of people have heard the story, but they don't really consider that she was a teenager when all these things were happening—Dauphine at fifteen, queen at nineteen, something like that. Nobody understood what kind of pressure she was under." Rachel peered thoughtfully at Quinn who continued, "Her mother was constantly pushing her, she had all these obligations to all these people. She couldn't be her own person. They expected her to be this gracious, benevolent leader, but by the standards for women at the time and no normal life experiences. Her Austrian origins made her an outsider in France. Can you imagine how alone she must have felt? You know what I mean?"

Quinn searched Rachel's face for a moment, trying to read the look she was receiving. The other girl nodded slowly, "Yes. I think I have a fairly good idea of what you're saying."

_I guess asking Rachel Berry if she knows what it feels like to be lonely wasn't very tactful_. "That was a silly question, I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I know that at school... You must-"

Rachel shook her head, "It wasn't me I was thinking of," she smiled and uncapped a pen before bending her head down to read, leaving a puzzled Quinn to stare at her headband.

_What's that supposed to mean?_

Her macchiato had cooled enough to drink, so she sipped quietly with anxious eyes darting from her paper to Rachel. The other girl had a very elaborate process, reading the paper no less than three times. Each pass she used a different system—the pens, the flags, and so on. After the second reading, Quinn gave up trying to decipher the goings on with her paper and took to staring openly at Rachel instead. She watched the girl cup her cheek and rest on an elbow while she read, occasionally forming the words with her mouth. A lock of hair kept slipping free by her temple and she would absentmindedly push it back behind her ear. Every few minutes a little chunk of dessert bar was popped into her mouth. Quinn eventually found herself admiring the girl's sweater—_Different from the one she wore to school—_and then moved on to looking at her hands—_Definitely not manly. What was I thinking when I started calling her that?_

Rachel peeled a gold star sticker off the sheet and pressed it firmly onto the top right corner of the page. "All done."

"Was it any good? Did it suck?"

She laughed lightly, "It was fine, Quinn."

"Just fine?"

She folded her arms on top of the table, "Would you like to let me finish?"

Quinn blushed, "I—yes. Please."

"It's a very good paper, but there's always room for improvement. I caught a few typos and one incorrect spelling—a homophone. Your voice is strong, I can definitely tell who wrote this paper," she smiled, which Quinn returned, if somewhat meekly, "Your conclusion is a little abrupt—I left you a note with some suggestions to improve it." She held out the paper, "Also, it has the highest award I can bestow upon a paper."

The blonde took the paper hesitantly, "It does?

"The Rachel Berry Gold Star Seal of Approval." She tapped the spot with the foil sticker.

That doubled as a laugh and a flood of relief for Quinn, "So it _is_ good?"

"Yes, you're a good writer, Quinn. I hardly think you needed my help, but I'm glad you asked. I'm interested to watch the movie, too."

"You've never seen it?" Rachel shook her head as she began to pack up her things. "You have to! It's such a good film. I mean, some people think the pacing is a bit slow, but all those ideas I was talking about with her-"

"Well the next time my dads and I have movie night, I'll try to convince them to rent it."

"I'll lend you my copy, I'll bring it to school tomorrow. You'd like it. It's sort of your... ." Quinn wasn't quite sure how to phrase this, since her earlier allusion to Rachel as an outcast had been shrugged off.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

_Here we go again, what is she talking about?_ "See what?"

"The story isn't about me. I mean, obviously I'm not the queen of France, but the lonely girl in your essay—do you know who she is?"

_What?_ Her shoulders sagged, "Um, Marie Antoinette?"

Rachel stood, a smile playing on her lips. She stepped around the table, picked up Quinn's pen and turned the essay toward herself. After a few quick marks, she dropped the pen and straightened. "Thank you for the Nanaimo bar. I had a good time, maybe we can do it again? Let me know when your next paper is due."

"Yeah, of course! I—me, too." _Why am I stumbling all of a sudden? _Rachel smiled as she headed for the door. "I'll bring the movie tomorrow," Quinn called after her, the other girl tossed a wave over her shoulder and disappeared through the exit.

_Did I just choke? I think I just choked. I completely lost control of this date. And that thing at the end, what kind of cryptic-_

Her eyes settled on her paper. Rachel had changed the title. Where before the centered text had said, "Fall of a Teen Queen" some words were crossed out and a new one was written above.

"_Fall of Teen Quinn"_

"Oh," she murmured. Taking a swig from her now tepid drink, she began to read all of Rachel's small notes. When she touched the corner to turn the page, she smiled reflexively at the feel of the star under her fingers.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hello again, gang. A fairly beefy update for your end of Easter gift. :) Big thanks to the anon who included me in a list of fic recs over on l chat. That made my weekend and motivated me to get this monster churned out before going to bed. Thank you, thank you to everyone for the kind comments, it means a lot. _

_I'm bumping the rating up on this because it occurred to me that despite being immature, teenagers have a tendency to get themselves into very mature scenarios. Nothing crazy in this chapter, but angst and other things are on the horizon and I think they'll warrant the M rating when we get there. And, of course, not everything that happens in the M category is a bad thing. ;)_

* * *

True to her word, Quinn brought her copy of _Marie Antoinette_ with her to school the following day. She had debated with herself for close to twenty minutes about the small sticky note hidden inside. First unsure if she should include a note, then stumped about what to write on it. Once she had settled on something, she slipped back into panic about adding a note at all. Her eagerness to push the operation forward won out. A yellow, flower-shaped post-it was pressed against the inside panel of the DVD case—"Rachel, I don't have a seal of approval, but this film definitely receives two enthusiastic Fabray Thumbs Up. Thank you again for your help. I really appreciate it. ~Q"

_I just hope she doesn't open it right away when I hand it to her. Don't want to see her face when she reads it, in case she thinks it's lame. It's kind of corny. Is it too forward? It doesn't seem too forward. Maybe I should have stuck with..._

"Hey," Mercedes had walked up to Quinn's locker at some point.

The blonde startled slightly, "Hey."

"Whatcha got?" she nodded at the case clutched in Quinn's hand.

"Nothing. I mean, it's a movie." Mercedes squinted at her, so she kept going. "Um, I told Berry I'd let her borrow it."

"What one?" Quinn had started to tilt the case away subconsciously, but not far enough to make the title indistinguishable. "Marie Antoinette? Really? Remember when you made me watch that?"

Quinn frowned, "Yes."

Rolling her eyes, Mercedes continued, "Longest movie ever. Why does she want to borrow it? She on some kick about royalty? If we end up having to do some crazy French thing in Glee-"

"I-I suggested it. It's a _good_ movie."

"Uh huh. Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"Right. I want to try to catch her before class and... and give this to her. See you later."

Before Mercedes' "Bye" could escape her lips, Quinn was already gone. She took out her phone and tapped her partner in gossip a message.

**←So now they're swapping movies. **

Kurt's ever-instantaneous reply followed.

**→What mysterious 'they' are we talking about?**

Mercedes watched Quinn approach Rachel's locker.

**←R&Q. Think we need to do some detective work.**

**→Exciting!**

Down the hall, Quinn was holding the DVD case in front of her as though it were a shield.

"Hey, Rachel."

"Oh, hello, Quinn," Rachel smiled at her. She seemed a little less sure of herself than she had at the coffee shop, which helped Quinn with her nerves. Slightly.

"I wanted to thank you again," _Okay this is exactly what I wrote in my note, now it's just going to be redundant_, "for your help. Here's the movie."

Rachel took the case and turned it over in her hands, but didn't open it. _Small miracles._ She gently bit her lower lip while reading the small blurb on the back. When she looked back up, her expression seemed doubtful. _Oh God, she thinks it looks stupid. Now I've given her a stupid film with a stupid note. Why is this so hard? How do guys do this? I'm smart, I'm a girl, I should know_-

"What would you think about watching it together?"

_WHAT? _"What?"

Rachel lowered her eyes, "Of course, if you don't want to... ."

"No! I mean, yes. I'd like that. When? Whose house?" _This is perfect! Perfect!_

Confidence blossomed in the other girl's features, "Well, Friday nights are my dads' date night. They always go out to dinner and a movie. We would have the TV to ourselves. Do you have any plans?"

"No, no plans," _That's when I used to hang out with Sam_, "Friday night is great. Do you want to order a pizza or something? Do you eat pizza?"

Rachel laughed, "Of course I eat pizza, Quinn. I _am_ a teenager, after all."

"Well, but cheese?"

She reached out and patted the perplexed girl's shoulder, "If you ask nicely, they will leave the cheese off."

_I'm such an idiot, that's such an obvious...ugh. _"Right, right. So... what time should I... ?"

"Six?"

_Does this count as another date? Was the first one even a date? If I pay for the pizza can _this_ be a date? Oh, she's waiting for an answer._ "I'll be there."

The pair grinned at each other, unaware of anyone monitoring their exchange. In total, no fewer than three sets of eyes had surveyed them from various vantage points in the hall. With interest.

* * *

Glee was somehow bending the physics of time on Friday afternoon. Everyone's inspirational song felt like it went on forever. Quinn wouldn't have minded a repeat of Rachel's song, "Firework". She wasn't the biggest fan of Katy Perry, but the power behind Rachel's voice really did make the song feel inspiring. When the tiny girl had started to jump up and down during the performance, Quinn's smile broadened and she self-consciously moved to cover her mouth with her hand. Even when the two of them had been most at odds, hearing the girl sing had always made a warmth settle in her chest.

_I just have a strong appreciation for talent, that's all. Anyone with ears could tell Rachel is talented. Nothing wrong with admiring talent._

Though Quinn was used to performing for an audience after her years with the Cheerios, she was always a little anxious singing in Glee. Her taste in music was a bit different from the other kids. She grew up listening to the oldies and even though she enjoyed a lot of current popular music, her go-to songs were always from decades past. There was also no denying that singing after Rachel was intimidating. None the less, she took the floor and gave her best effort. Her voice wasn't terribly strong, but she put as much energy as she could behind each verse of "Help!"

Quinn inadvertently caught Rachel's eye as she sang. The other girl was mouthing the lyrics and beaming. She gave Quinn a small nod of encouragement and it stirred a rush inside her. She finished the last chorus with a solid resonance that surprised even herself. Everyone clapped, but the applause she was most cognizant of was Rachel's.

"All right, great job, everybody!" Mr. Schue commented as the clapping died down. "No weekend assignment—go out and have some fun, you've earned it." He picked up his notepad and was the first out the door.

Quinn was still a little flushed from her performance as she approached her chair to collect her things. Rachel had her binder clutched to her chest, still smiling.

"That was quite lovely, Quinn."

Her flush turned to a blush, "Thanks."

"Are you a fan of the Beatles?"

Quinn shrugged, "Yeah, but who isn't?"

Rachel gave a thoughtful nod, "I suppose you're right, they were quite popular." _'Cause that's not an understatement or anything._ "I enjoy them, too. Of course, the obligatory Beatles question: Which one is your favorite?"

"Ringo."

"Really, why?"

Quinn wrinkled her brow in thought, "I guess he always seemed the most laid back. If you watch their old televised stuff, he just looks like he's having a good time. He's pretty funny in interviews, too."

"He's also my favorite, actually."

"Oh? Why?" Rachel tilted her head down slightly and brought her finger up to the tip of her nose, which made Quinn laugh. "Ah, I get it."

Grinning, "Anyway, I'll see you later?"

"Six o'clock."

Rachel nodded and headed out the door with the rest of the kids. Well, most of them.

"Since when are you and Stubbles besties?"

Quinn rolled her head back onto her shoulders, eyes on the ceiling, "Mind your own business, Santana."

Santana slowly picked her way through the chairs, descending from her seat in the back corner of the room. "You were trying to pull something over on her just a few days ago and now you're hanging out with her on a Friday night?"

"I told you that was a misunderstanding and I'll say it again," Quinn turned to face the other girl, "It's none of your business."

"Oh, well, if it was such an innocent thing, trying to get B to lock the girl up in a closet full of cleaning chemicals, then I guess it won't be a big deal if I bring it up to the dwarf, right?" Santana watched Quinn's whole body tense. "Like I thought," she smirked. "But, I bet whatever it is you're trying to hide will be a lot juicier if I let you keep stewing in it for a while." Quinn was glaring now. "Best watch your back, Q."

After Santana sauntered out of the room, Quinn slammed her notebook shut. _Why is she such a bitch all the time? We used to be on the same team. _Her scowl melted into a frown. _We used to be friends._ Shaking her head, she scooped up her notebook and bag, then headed out the door. A familiar train of memories started queuing up in her mind, all the events that had transpired between herself and Santana over the last year. It was depressing and circular. Though she wouldn't admit how often she thought about it, she genuinely missed San as a friend. She forced herself to think about her evening with Rachel instead. It worked to bring her out the funk Santana had triggered; she found herself smiling on the drive home.

* * *

_No reason to be nervous. Watching a movie. I won't even have to talk much. We'll just have pizza and watch the movie and I'll go home. This is not a big deal. I mean, it is a big deal, it's gonna put me like a week ahead of schedule on the friendship step of my plan, but I need to act like it's not a big deal. Right? If I act like it's a big deal, maybe she'll get uncomfortable. What's taking her so long to answer the door? I am at the right house, right? I didn't actually check to make sure that this is where she lives, but I mean-I've driven past and seen her here. In the yard. Not like I drive by a lot. Since we live in the same area it just makes sense that I would know where she lives. Because this _is_ where she lives... should I ring the doorbell again?_

Quinn's silent panic was interrupted by the door opening. "Hi, Quinn. Sorry, I had to wash off my hands before I could grab the door."

Relieved she was at the right house, Quinn waved off the apology and stepped inside. "No problem, I wasn't waiting long or anything." _It just _felt_ like forever. _Quinn looked around the entryway. She was able to see a bit into the living room and almost into the doorway of the kitchen.

Rachel shut the front door and turned to face Quinn, "Would you like the tour? Can I take your jacket?"

She slipped of her jacket and handed it over so it could be tucked into the coat closet, just to their left. Quinn really was curious and she imagined that Rachel didn't get the chance to show guests around very often. "I'd love a tour."

Looking delighted, Rachel held up both hands, "Okay, wait here one second. I'm going to put this away and I'll be right back," she gestured at the apron she was wearing. _I didn't even notice that_. Rachel was wearing a yellow and pink apron with stars on it—_Of course—_over a loose-fitting sweater and, to her surprise, jeans. _I guess I've seen her wear jeans before, just so used to the skirts. _Quinn nodded her agreement and the other girl scampered away. She heard a few clanging noises from the kitchen while she examined a family photo on the wall by the entrance. _What on earth is she doing in there?_

A moment later and Rachel was back at the entry. "Just tidying a few things, all set now."

"Were you baking?"

Rachel's eyes widened comically, "What makes you say that?"

Quinn smirked, "Well, there was the apron and," she reach out with her hand, but pulled back slightly, "it looks like you've got some flour in your bangs. Just there," she pointed.

"Oh!" Her hand immediately shot up and started ruffling her hair to remove the offending powder, "Is it gone? How embarrassing."

"Ha, yeah, you got it. So, you _were_ baking?"

The shorter girl pouted slightly, "I meant for it to be a surprise. I made cookies for us."

"You didn't have to do that. I think that means I get to pay for the pizza."

"My dads left money to-"

"Nope, I'm buying. You can't stop me."

Rachel folded her arms, "I guess we'll see about that when the pizza arrives."

Quinn smiled, "I guess so. Speaking of, let's get this tour started so we can _order_ that pizza."

"Fine, follow me. First stop—the Oscar room!" Rachel took off with Quinn trailing behind her. _What is an Oscar room?_

The tour lasted about ten minutes. Quinn found out an "Oscar room" was pretty much the same thing as a rec room—_For a family that has strong feelings about theatrical arts—_and that Rachel's room was yellow, not pink, like she had expected. _Hard to tell from those MySpace videos._ She could also tell how invested Rachel's parents were her, with photos of and awards earned by Rachel littering every wall and shelf. It was a melancholy feeling for Quinn. Her home had cheer trophies and other accomplishments of hers and her older sister's on exhibit, but it didn't feel the same. The difference, she decided, was that for every proud keepsake in this home, there was a matching adorable, goofy photo of the three of them. It made Quinn's home feel more like a display case than a family dwelling.

Having made their way back to the living room, Rachel picked up the phone. "What do you like on your pizza? Canadian bacon?"

"I'm not actually a big fan of Canadian bacon."

"Oh, regular bacon, then?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Who gets bacon put on a pizza?"

Rachel looked mildly panicked, "I just thought you liked bacon."

"What are you talking about?"

"So, you don't like bacon?"

"Rachel, I like bacon just fine, but it's not the only food I eat. Where is this bacon thing coming from?"

Turning the phone over in her hand as she spoke, the smaller girl stammered a little, "Well, I—it's just that Noah said when you lived with him you were always complaining about not getting to have bacon. And I assumed if you brought it up regularly, it might be a favorite of yours. I was just guessing that as a favorite food, it might be a logical topping you w-"

"Okay, timeout." Quinn took a step forward and plucked the phone out of Rachel's nervous hands, "First of all, Puck is an idiot. Second, I mentioned it a total of two times when I was living with him. _Two times._ Third, anytime you're told you can't have something, it makes you want it more. And fourth? Pregnancy cravings. End of story."

Rachel looked thoroughly abashed, "Sorry. Now you probably think _I'm_ an idiot."

_That may have come off a little harsh._ Quinn smiled at the brunette, "You are definitely not an idiot. What do _you_ like on pizza?"

She still looked a little embarrassed, but she was smiling again, "I usually get a veggie supreme."

"Without cheese?"

She nodded, "Without cheese."

"All right. How about you get the movie started and I'll order the pizza?"

"Okay! I'll get the movie from my room," she was already on her way to the stairs.

"Hey, do you want a soda?"

"I don't drink soda," she called over her shoulder, "Soda is bad for the enamel on your teeth and-"

"Stopping you there, just get the movie, please."

A "sorry" and an "okay" drifted back down the stairs. While Rachel was gone, Quinn called in the order and was hanging up just as she came back down, DVD case held in her right hand.

"It'll be here in about thirty-five minutes."

"Great. I'm starving after all the work I did this afternoon," Rachel walked over to the entertainment center and start pushing buttons.

Quinn took a seat on the long couch facing the TV, "Super exhaustive baking?"

The other girl laugh, popping open the case and extracting the disc, "I didn't just bake. I also helped Daddy clean the garage for a while."

"Oh." _That explains the jeans. _She was about to ask a follow-up question, when she remembered the note in the movie box.

Rachel was pushing the disc tray back in, when she looked down to shut the case. She stopped halfway through the gesture and brought her fingers to the inside flap. Quinn held her breath, internally cursing the note. But the other girl just smiled and finished closing the case before turning to join her on the sofa.

"I hope you get a good grade on the essay, by the way." She reached for a remote from a small arrangement of two others on the coffee table and highlighted the option to start the movie.

Glad that the other girl's attention seemed to be on the screen, Quinn shrugged and replied, "Yeah, me, too."

The film started and neither spoke for a few minutes.

"Oh my goodness! That dog is adorable!"

Quinn chuckled, "There are a lot of cute dogs in this."

"Good," Rachel nodded her approval.

A few scenes later, Quinn was watching her companion carefully out of the corner of her eye. Mops, the adorable dog in question, was being pried out of Marie Antoinette's arms. The look on Rachel's face is-

_Precious. I bet she cries at the end. I always do._

"I can't believe they take away her puppy!"

"Relax, Rach, she gets him back."

"Promise?"

Laughing, "Promise."

"Okay," she murmurs, doubtfully.

Falling back into silence, they continue watching. Rachel showing every reaction to each shot plainly on her face, Quinn peeking at her to enjoy the ever-changing landscape of emotions. Both are startled when the doorbell rings. Rachel pauses the movie, and they head to the door together.

Stopping short, "Oh, I need to get the cash. Can you grab the-"

Quinn nods, "I've got it." Rachel steps away and Quinn opens the door, greeting the delivery guy. She signs the receipt and accepts a large pizza and a drink for herself. They exchange thanks and "have a good evening" and she kicks the door shut with her foot.

Returning, money in hand, Rachel stares at her, "Wait, but I still need to... ." Quinn smirks. "You paid for it before I could get back?"

"You underestimate me," Quinn takes a draft of soda through the straw of her drink, "I paid for it with my debit card when I ordered it. There was no way you were going to pay for this."

With her hands on her hips, but smiling, "Quinn Fabray, you are sneaky."

"You flatter me. Where would you like your pizza, Rachel Berry?"

The other girl laughs, "In the kitchen, I'll get us plates."

_This is going really well. I'm actually having fun. Fun with Berry, who would have guessed? _

When they walk back into the living room, the pair glance at the screen and then back at each other before erupting with laughter.

"Nice pause job," Quinn snickers as she sits down.

"It's not my fault!" Rachel had managed to pause at an awkward moment in which the main character is standing naked in her room, surrounded by onlookers, trying desperately to cover herself while a preposterous dressing sequence is taking place.

The movie plays on, with the girls sharing the occasional giggle or amused look. Not quite halfway through the film, Rachel turns to study Quinn. The scene playing out is one the blonde had referenced a few times in her paper—Marie collapse softly and breaks the fourth wall, staring helplessly at the audience. Hazel eyes gaze back at the tired girl on the screen. Rachel can tell her theory from the other evening was correct and that Quinn connects quite deeply with the character, in her own way. She smiles a secret smile from her side of the sofa, realizing that by sharing the film with her, Quinn is letting Rachel behind her walls. She stares just a little too long; Quinn, having sensed the scrutiny, turns to face her.

The way Rachel is staring at her makes her feel exposed, but not uncomfortable. Her mind is devoid of coherent thought, her inner monologue having abandoned her, and all she can do is look back. The expression on the other girl's face is warm, reassuring. A small thought solidifies and drifts to the surface.

_She understands._

Rachel's eyes flutter to the side, breaking the spell. They both redirect their attention to the movie.

An hour later, the girls are attempting to casually wipe tears away as the closing music floats in over the last shot of the ravaged French palace. A few sniffles transpire while the credits roll.

"You were right, that was a good movie."

"Not everybody seems to think so, but when you like it, you love it, you know?"

"Yes, definitely." Rachel stretched out her legs, "Want some cookies?"

Quinn was cracking her neck, "Yeah, I almost forgot. Could use a pick-me-up about now, poor Marie."

"No joke," rising from the couch, both girls shuffle into the kitchen. With a mildly dramatic flourish and deliberate ceremony, Rachel spins with the plate of cookies and sets them down in the center of the counter closest to Quinn.

Quinn picks up a star-shaped (_What else?_) cookie and examines it, then looks over at the plate. Each cookie has either a script 'R' or a 'Q' on it in pastel colors, with a little crown design above the letter applied in frosting. The one in her hand was a 'Q', she reaches out and picks up an 'R'. "These are fantastic looking."

The compliment left Rachel glowing, "Thank you. Cookies are something of a specialty of mine."

"I can tell," Quinn stared at the confections. The symbolism of it was almost mocking her.

"They're safe to eat, you know. Not just for looking."

She looked back over at the other girl, her stomach felt heavy somehow. "Right," she took a bite from the 'Q'. They were delicious. She said so. Rachel sprung to action, finding a container and started piling cookies into it.

"I insist you take these home with you."

"No, I mean, not all of them. Keep some for you."

Quinn argued her way from taking all of them down to taking two-thirds. She'd tried to convince Rachel to only send her home with half, but she was having none of it. Now, she was standing at the door with her coat on, Tupperware crammed with cookies in-hand.

"Oops, let me get your movie."

While Rachel was in the living room, Quinn was turning thoughts over in her mind. The cumbersome emotions the crowned cookies had brought up were swimming around in her conscience. Thoughts scattered before they could congeal into anything tangible and she found herself now holding the DVD case, too. Both girls grew bashful.

"Well, thank you for sharing your movie with me. I had a good time."

"Me, too. Thanks for the cookies," she shook the container lightly.

"You're welcome."

A beat.

"I guess, I'm headed out, then."

Rachel nodded, "Have a good night."

Quinn smiled, "You, too." She still hadn't turned toward the door, she felt like she should be saying more. Rachel appeared to be thinking the same thing, her fingers had twisted together and she was having a hard time standing still. Unable to come up with anything more, Quinn's head tilted slightly in the direction of the exit when Rachel took a quick step forward and startled her with a hug. The shock passed almost instantly and she tried to reciprocate the hug, which was hard, since her hands were full. When they broke apart, Rachel was bright red, but attempting to push through her embarrassment over the impulsive gesture.

Reaching past Quinn, she pulled on the door handle and cleared her throat, "Drive safely."

Quinn wanted to laugh, but she could tell it probably wasn't the best time. Instead, she waited for Rachel's eyes to make their way back to hers and she gave the shorter girl a sincere smile, "I will. Thank you, Rachel." She nodded and Quinn finally felt ready to step out into the cold evening.

The drive home was filled with more thinking. And the thinking continued as she walked into her house, said "hello" and then "good night" to her mother, trudged up the stairs, and collapsed on her bed. Thinking, thinking. It didn't stop until she propped herself up on one elbow and eyed the movie case. Cracking it open, she looked inside and found that her sticky note had been taken out.

The heavy feeling was still there, but she was smiling again.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I know, what kind of terrible person am I to vanish for months in the middle of a story? Well, probably not the most terrible person ever, but that was still bad form. I'm back with more words on our dear friends R&Q. It's little, but I wanted you to know I didn't die and neither has the story. __And TouristSeason totally called me out on not updating a while ago on tumblr, so I had to do something. _Again, thanks for the reviews-most efficient guilt-inducing technique to use against a slacking writer.  


* * *

Rachel Berry is an all-or-nothing kind of girl. When she chooses a goal, she puts all her energy into achieving it. And what constitutes a goal? Anything and everything. Becoming a star performer? You bet. Earning the title of quarterback? Absolutely. Give a hundred and ten percent to ironing skirts? Well, sure, if you want to get mundane about it. This is how Rachel lives her life. So it shouldn't be a surprise that she also uses this technique for interpersonal contingencies.

That is to say, friendships.

Over the weekend following her movie night with Quinn, Rachel did a great deal of thinking. It was clear to her that, intentional or not, she was being allowed a glimpse of the inner-workings of the former Cheerio's thoughts and feelings. Though she had been skeptical of the girl's motives, she felt they were making real progress. And truly, who was Rachel to turn down a friendship? Examining her history with Quinn and contrasting their experiences she arrived at a novel conclusion—Quinn had very few friends. The girl is hit or miss at best with Finn, rarely speaks with Noah, is obviously on the outs with Santana (by extension, is only occasionally seen with Brittany) and had never been particularly close with anyone else except Sam (no explanation needed here) and Mercedes. Her insight, she felt, was both poignant and dismaying. So she set a new goal: Be the most supportive, reliable friend to Quinn Fabray that she could possibly be.

And it was with this mentality that Rachel was sitting up as straight as she could in the cafeteria on Monday afternoon, searching relentlessly for blonde hair while two very dull boys tried to make small talk with her at the overcrowded table favored by popular students.

"So, like, as the QB, you probably work out a lot, right?" An athlete of some type, the boy on her left was leaning in an exaggeratedly casual pose in his chair.

"Mmm," her head was turning every which way, scanning the noisy room.

"That's hot," the second boy offered. "I work out, you know." His name was Ian. Or maybe it was Ethan, she'd already forgotten.

An, "Oh!" escaped Rachel's lips. Ian, or maybe Ethan, smirked. He was about to offer her a ticket to "the gun show" before he realized her exclamation was not, in fact, to do with his comment. "Quinn! Quinn! Over here!" She waved enthusiastically.

Quinn had been lingering in the back, trying to decide where to sit. Mercedes was out sick, leaving her with two options given the current seating situation. She was unsure if it would be more awkward to sit with Sam, so soon after the break up, or be seen with Finn even though he and Rachel were still avoiding each other. Her internal debate ended when she heard her name being called. Rachel's wild waving made the corners of her mouth turn up and when she realized she was being invited to sit, she smiled despite herself.

_Who would have thought I'd be happy to sit next to Rachel Berry?_

She approached the table slowly, "Hi, Rachel."

"Would you care to join us for lunch?" Quinn looked pointedly at the boys on either side of the tiny quarterback, both stared back coolly. Rachel turned to the boy slouching at her left, "I'm sorry, could you possibly move? My friend wants to sit down." Sullen, he shrugged and pushed himself out of the chair. Rachel gave him a toothy smile and a "thank you" before turning back to Quinn and gesturing with her hand.

Quinn stepped around the boy, who was still standing beside the table awkwardly, and dropped into the seat. She was fighting a cocky grin when she murmured, "Thanks, Rachel." _Oh the power of popularity, how I've missed you._

"Of course!" The ousted boy finally took the hint and walked off, but the table still held half a dozen silent students, trying to make sense of this new dynamic. After all, they had just adjusted to fawning all over a female quarterback, bringing the disgraced, teen-mom and former cheerleader to the table was a disorienting move. Rachel, however, was impervious to their discomfort, "I trust you had a good weekend, Quinn?"

"Um, yeah. Pretty good. How was yours?"

Nodding, "Splendid," she munched away on a celery stick. A small murmur of conversation began to trickle from the other students and Ian-possibly-Ethan decided to resume his efforts.

"You're in orchestra or something, right?"

Rachel turned to address the boy, but Quinn was already firing off her own answer. "Glee. She's in Glee."

The boy ignored her and kept addressing Rachel, "Whatever. You like music? My friend's band is playing Saturday. I'll take you with me. Sound good, Berries?"

Rachel's mouth was opening to reply, but once again, Quinn's voice was first out of the gate. "_What_ did you just call her?"

His eyes turned on Quinn, "Wasn't talking to you, baby bump. I'm talking to her," he tilted his head toward Rachel. The girl in question was watching, mouth agape, her eyes bouncing back and forth throughout the exchange.

"Baby bump? Really clever—when it was being said _last year_. While I'm sure your friend's crappy garage band is _fantastic_, Rachel is out of your league. So why don't you drop it and save yourself the embarrassment?"

"Who the Hell asked you?"

"No need to ask—it was just some free advice, jerk. She's got plans, anyway."

"Look, bitch-"

"Stop it!" Both of them turned to look at Rachel. _Stupid guy, Rachel is totally furious right now. Look at her._

"Quinn," _Wait, why I am getting the lecture-face?_ "I appreciate your...assistance, however, I can handle this." _Am I in trouble? That guy was being a –_ "Now," Rachel turned to face the boy, "Ethan, I-"

"Ian. My name is Ian."

"Right, that's what I meant. Ian, thank you for the invitation, but I will have to decline. I do, in fact, have plans." Quinn felt a twist in her chest. _She really does have plans? Who does she have plans with?_ "I'm going to have to ask you to apologize to Quinn."

"You serious?"

The whole table was quiet and staring again. "I assure you, I am serious." Quinn smirked at Ian and clasped her hands in her lap. "And Quinn, please apologize to Ian."

"What? But he was the one who called m-"

The smaller girl held up her hands for quiet, "You both ventured out of line, and I only eat lunch with civilized people."

_I can't believe this. I was defending her and now I have to apologize? This guy—I am totally getting him back for this. _She was considering refusing when Rachel slid her hand under the table, reached over and squeezed her wrist. The contact snapped her out of her inner tirade. The touch signaled acknowledgment and the expression on her face confirmed it. _Oh. I'm _not_ the one in trouble, Rachel is just being diplomatic. I can handle that, I suppose._

"Fine." She fixed her eyes on the boy dully and said, "I apologize." She was rewarded with a smile from Rachel, who then turned to Ian.

He snorted, "Whatever, I've got better things to do." Shoving his chair back loudly, he tossed one more withering gaze at Quinn before stalking off.

Rachel shook her head slowly, "So disrespectful." After a pause, she let her gaze travel over the other girls and guys at the table, "Don't you think?"

Quinn watched, astounded, as all the students erupted with concurring comments. "Rude!" "Totally!" "Who does he think he is?" Rachel looked back over at Quinn and smiled, finally releasing the other girl's wrist. She smiled back, a little dazed.

_She's actually good at being popular. Everybody at this table is completely enamored with her and follows her lead. _Quinn started working on her lunch, occasionally marking the other girl interact with her admirers. _Amazing._

* * *

Later that day, Quinn and Rachel were walking together to Glee. Quinn had been trying to come up with a casual way to find out about Rachel's plans for Saturday night. Nothing had presented itself.

"What are you doing Saturday night?" she grimaced. _It sounds so desperate. Ugh. _

"Hmm?" Rachel's thoughts had apparently been elsewhere.

"Saturday? You told that," she scowled, "guy you had other plans. What are they?" She quickly added, "Just curious."

A soft chuckle, "Oh, that! I don't actually have any plans."

"But... ."

"I was afraid he was going to ask me on some kind of date—when you provided the excuse of a prior engagement, I jumped on it. After dating Finn and my brief tryst with Noah, I've decided I need to raise my standards in suitors. Not that Finn and Noah aren't good guys, although Noah really doesn't make good choices with respect to the legal system-" Quinn gently cleared her throat, which put her back on topic. "Anyway, I've decided I will only consider persons with both integrity and intelligence. I find it highly unlikely that Ian boy possesses copious amounts of either."

_The six sentence Berry burn, how did that feel, Ian? _"Ah, I see. Good call."

"However, there is something I'd like to do... ."

Quinn latched onto the comment, "Oh?"

They had reached the door to choir room and Rachel was hanging back, a little of her shyness resurfacing. "Well, I really enjoyed the other evening. When we watched _Marie Antoinette_ together. I did some research and found other films by the same director and wondered if perhaps you'd like a sequel? I mean, not to the film, of course, that doesn't make sense. But a repeat. Another movie night. If you don't have plans? I mean, only if you want to, of course."

She didn't consider why her face felt warm or why the smile she was wearing was entirely unforced, but she did want to reassure Rachel about spending time with her. _For the plan, you know._ "I'd love to, what movie did you pick? Or is there a list?"

The shorter girl wrinkled her brow, "Well, Sofia Coppola actually hasn't directed very many films. I saw she used Kirsten Dunst again in _The Virgin Suicides_, but that sounded ghastly. I mean, dramatic, certainly, but not a fun film for a movie night. But I was thinking, maybe _Lost in Translation_? It had mixed review-"

"That's one I haven't seen yet. Let's do it."

"Great! Um, my house again? We could order in another pizza, only this time I get to pay."

"We'll see about that," Quinn stepped forward and held open the door for Rachel. "After you, madame."

"Why, thank you!"

Finn watched the two girls disappear into the room from the edge of his locker door. "Weird. That is so weird." He swung the metal panel closed slowly and stared hard into the distance. He was thinking. Or he was trying to, anyway.

* * *

From an early age, Finn realized he would never be the smartest boy. But that was okay, he could be the tallest one instead. He tried to do right by his friends and his family, though he occasionally got confused or distracted or both. At this moment, he was confused. Sitting in Glee, he was watching Rachel and Quinn chat and laugh together. It just didn't make sense to him. Quinn had been so upset with Rachel, about her being on the football team. And he thought she was really disappointed in him for getting kicked off said team because of Rachel. So why was this happening?

When the other Gleeks were filing out of the room, Finn bit his lip and made a questionable decision. "Hey, Santana. Wait up." Santana didn't make any effort to slow down or stop, in fact she rolled her eyes, but her back was to Finn so he didn't notice. "Please? I just want to ask you something. It'll only take a second."

Santana slapped her hand on the door frame, "What, Finnessa?" She decided she'd rather have whatever stupid conversation he had planned conducted in private than in the middle of the hallway. Turning around, she gestured impatiently for his delivery.

"Look, is something weird going on between Rachel and Quinn? I mean, I think there _is_ something weird going on, but do you know what it is? They're like all friends and stuff."

She arched an eyebrow and raised her chin slightly, "I've noticed. Go on."

He shrugged and looked around the room, "I dunno. It just feels wrong, you know? Quinn was being super nice to me the other day and was like, mad at Rachel—a little more than she usually is—and now all of a sudden it's the other way around. Mad at me, nice to Rach."

"Super nice to you _how_, jolly giant?"

"Well, she was trying to help me get back on the team. I think she was, anyway. Telling me what to do and stuff."

Santana's lips had parted slightly in thought and her gaze drifted to the side of the classroom. "Interesting." Refocusing on Finn, she asked, "Did she say anything about Berry when that was going on?"

He scratched the back of his head, "Told me to be nice to her. Get on her good side. Quinn was angriest about me not being the quarterback anymore."

A different kind of glee was filling Santana, but she put on a mask of indifference, "I don't know. Maybe loca is pregnant again and her hormones are making her an idiot."

"Hey, that's mean."

"Is it? Helping a doofy McDumbass like you and befriending butt-ugly Berry? Sounds like Blondie has a screw loose to me. What do you care, anyway? Neither of them is dating your skelo-grow freak show."

"You know what? Never mind." Exasperated, Finn stormed out.

Smiling to herself, "So Quinn is spending all her time with Berry after trying very hard to keep her from becoming quarterback. I knew something was up. Time for a little reconnaissance work."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: An update! And you didn't even have to wait for the seasons to change to see it happen. :) Thank you for the reviews and to everybody hanging on despite my sporadic update schedule._

* * *

"But what did he say?" Rachel asked between sniffles, as the movie credits rolled up the screen. It had been another successful movie night at the Berry house.

Quinn smiled, "It's not for us to know." She found the other girl's dismay endearing, but was struggling to relabel that endearment to something a little less... _Crush-like? Because that is absolutely not possible. And gross, right? _"What Bob says to Charlotte is just between them. They made a connection and now we're the outsiders."

Frowning slightly, "But I want to know if they see each other again! This is torturous! I mean, yes, it is in poor taste to engage in an extramarital affair on both their parts, however-"

"Rach? You're thinking about it too hard. Two people found one another during a lonely time in their lives and perhaps they're better for it. The end." Rachel slumped back a little further on the sofa, tucking her feet up. Wiping under her eyes one last time, she gave Quinn a forlorn look. _Ugh, don't make that face. Fine, FINE. _Letting out a heavy sigh, Quinn offered, "I'm sure they meet again." Rachel looked dubious. "They meet again after making appropriate decisions about their existing relationships, better?"

She was rewarded with a beaming smile-_Cute. I mean, not cute. Cute for Rach._-and a nod from the smaller girl, "Yes, I think that would be both responsible and romantic." Both of them surveyed the decimated pizza in silence for a moment while the DVD began looping in the menu. _I feel like I should be saying something. Is this awkward silence or just regular silence? I could talk more about the movie, I guess. Maybe the scene where_-" ... tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Quinn, were you listening to me at all?"

"I-yes, no. I mean, yes. Sort of?" _Crapcrapcrap._ "No. I'm sorry, I was spacing out. Please say it again?"

Rachel leaned over and patted Quinn's arm in a condescending way, "It's okay, I'm sure you must be very tired." Quinn glared, which only made Rachel laugh. "I asked if you wanted to do something tomorrow. Maybe coffee again or lunch?"

"Well, I have church-"

The hand retracted, "Oh, I see. No problem. Maybe some other time. Could you hand me your plate? I'll start cleaning up." She sat forward and began reaching toward the table.

_That confidence of hers sure waxes and wanes like crazy._ "Or you could let me finish. I have church _in the morning_, so I'm not free until the afternoon. But I'd like to hang out again. I could do coffee or an early dinner."

"Why not both?"

"Sure, yeah. We could go to that café on North Street. Um, Sprouts?"

"You like eating at Sprouts?"

Quinn gave herself a mental high five. _And that is why I took the time to write down a list of vegan-friendly food places in Lima. _"I've heard of it, but haven't tried it yet. Is it good?"

"It's great! Their soup and sandwich combos are amazing. What time do you want to meet there?"

_Okay, let's try this._ "How about I pick you up at 4:30?" _If I pick her up and pay for dinner, it is absolutely a date._

"Well," Rachel said, smiling as she stood up, "You can pick me, but I get to pay for dinner." Before Quinn could argue, she was already heading to the kitchen with her hands full of plates, humming a tune.

_Damn it._

* * *

_How on earth did it get wedged all the way under there? _Quinn was trying to reach her hand under her bed for a stray shoe while still keeping her Sunday best as clean as possible.

"Quinnie, are you ready? We're late!" Her mother's voice drifted up the stairs.

"Coming, Mom!" Quinn really was a punctual person, but she had stayed up late trying to plan all the details for today's dinner with Rachel-what to wear, what to order, how to trick the other girl into letting her pay. Waking up late and not cleaning her room for a few days had her running behind this morning. After some more desperate arm contortions, she managed to link her pinky through the strap and drag the offending footwear out. She was hobbling down the stairs, shoe clutched in one hand, purse in the other, when she felt her phone go off. "Gah!" Almost tripping on the bottom step, she sat to dig out the phone while attempting to put her shoe on with one hand. "Hello?"

"Hey, girl, it's me," which was Mercedes. "Momma wants to know if you want to come over for dinner tonight."

Quinn froze. _Shoot. I haven't gone to visit the Joneses in way too long, but I've got dinner with Rach. _"I can't tonight, but I will come over soon. I promise. Tell them thank you so much for the offer."

There was a brief pause on the other end, "What are your plans? You got a date?"

Judy was leaning against a wall, arms folded, the very picture of an unhappy mother kept waiting. _Well, I can't lie and say I'm hanging out with Mom. Truth will have to do. People are going to figure it out once we start campaigning anyway. That's the point. _"Well, I'm getting coffee with Rachel."

"Oh, at the Lima Bean? Maybe I could join you guys, make it a party?"

"Um, no. I mean, we're going to be at Sprouts, not the Bean."

Another pause, "I see." Mercedes voice changed and became alarmingly chipper, "I'm not too crazy about all that vegan food, you two have fun! See ya tomorrow!"

_Uh oh. _"Yeah, see ya." Quinn finished wrangling her shoe into place and looked at her mother. "Gees, Mother, aren't you ready yet?"

Judy's disapproving look melted into laughter, "I think the Lord sent you to test me. Get in the car."

"You can ask him when we get to church," she called over her shoulder, scooting out the door.

* * *

At 4:25pm, Quinn's phone call with Mercedes was the last thing on her mind. She was waiting at the Berry's front step, anxiously rubbing her thumb against an old cheerleading charm on her keyring. The charm was made from some kind of yellow metal in the shape of a megaphone and, like a worry stone, she had worn away much of the depth and coloring that outlined the word "CHEER" inside the silhouette. _What if her fathers answer the door? Will they know who I am? Will this be like those scenes in movies where I get some line about a shotgun and a shovel from the protective dad? Can they tell this is a date? Is that part of gaydar?_

Relief flooded her when Rachel opened the door, no one else in sight. "Hello, Quinn!"

"Hey, Rach," Quinn gave her a once-over and had to bite her tongue, "Nice jacket."

Rachel was wearing a McKinley letterman jacket, just slightly large for the petite girl. Similar to her football jersey, this, too, had been attacked by a BeDazzler. "Isn't it wonderful? It was going to be a surprise when I wore it to class on Monday, but I thought it might be chilly tonight, so why not wear it now? Go Titans!"

All of her self-mastery went into containing her laughter. _That is such a ridiculously Rachel Berry jacket. I wonder if she had to special order the star-shaped jewels for the cuffs. _"Go Titans," she smiled. It was a genuine smile. "You're a very enthusiastic quarterback."

"Thank you, I try. If you would like, I can add some glamor to your letterman jacket sometime."

She shrugged and made her way over to her car, "I don't really wear it anymore. After quitting Cheerios and all." Thinking about the team and all of her scheming up to this moment made Quinn go quiet. She even forgot to get Rachel's door, which had been a starred item on her list of things to make tonight feel like a date.

Once they were buckled in and driving toward dinner, Rachel ventured a quiet apology. "I'm sorry to bring up a negative memory, Quinn. I wasn't really thinking."

"No, it's fine." Rachel was watching Quinn drive; Quinn was keeping her eyes on the road. At a traffic signal, Quinn continued, "It wasn't that hard to quit. It was and it wasn't. I don't miss Coach Sylvester, she was pretty awful to us." The other girl nodded, but didn't speak, afraid she would interrupt the moment. "But I was pretty awful to everybody else, so it made sense to me. The structure of it. I think I'm actually happier in Glee." Finally, she glanced over, "But you don't need to tell anybody I said that."

Smiling sadly, Rachel simply said, "Sure," and then both girls were quiet until arriving at their destination.

Quinn didn't snap out of her introspection until she heard Rachel's car door open. _Shoot! I didn't her door and I just captained the moodiest car ride in history. I can just hear Coach's mocking voice now, "Outstanding." _To make up for the failed car ride, Quinn added a little pep to her stride so she could hold the door to Sprout's open for Rachel. They picked a table along a wall on the gallery side of the café under some confusing but attractive local artwork. A girl with more exciting hair than Quinn was used to took their order and disappeared. A few minutes went by while they took in the atmosphere of the building. Some mismatched furniture, soft hipster music in the background, a spot in the corner that probably served as a stage on busier nights.

Attempting to keep things lighter than they had been in the car, Quinn tried some easy conversation. "What do you think Mr. Schue's crazy assignment will be next week?"

"Oh, who knows? I just hope it isn't another 80s band tribute week."

"I know, right?" the blonde laughed, "I'm waiting for the day he tells us we all have to do Van Halen."

"Goodness!" Rachel spread out her hands in presentation, "Guest performer, Ms. Pillsbury singing 'Hot for Teacher' to Mr. Schuester!" They were both continuing to crack up over this image when their drinks arrived.

* * *

At a table kitty-corner and slightly behind a counter from the two girls, who were now eating food and carrying on a pleasant conversation, sat two boys. One of them was dressed like a very fashionable and somewhat effeminate private detective-fitted trench coat with upturned collar and Lady Gaga sunglasses. The other boy was wearing a much less conspicuous jacket with a cheery scarf and a frown.

"Explain to me again what we're doing?" Blaine asked.

Kurt had propped up a menu along the edge of the table and was texting furiously to Mercedes. "We're just," he waved one hand quickly before returning it to his phone, "keeping an eye on them."

"We're spying on your friends."

"It's not spying."

"So if we're not spying, why are you dressed like Inspector Clouseau?"

Kurt looked up, "Wait, Peter Sellers or Steve Martin?"

"Peter Sellers. Now, will you answer my question?"

Pushing "send" on his most recent gossip update, he set down the cell with a huff. "It's not spying, okay? This is a very delicate situation. I don't expect you to fully understand since you're new to this scene," Blaine's eyebrows raised comically. "There was some very bad blood between these two, and Mercedes and I have taken a special interest. For their protection, that's all."

"Their protection? Rachel and Quinn?"

"Yes. We don't want to see anyone get hurt."

"They're just eating sandwiches."

A quick series of vibrations on the table and Kurt's head was hunched over the phone once more. "You just don't understand."

Blaine looked over at the girls and back at Kurt. "This is silly." No answer. Shaking his head, he made a decision. "Call it what you like, it's spying and it's immature. If you're so concerned about your friends, here's what we'll do." Mid-text, Blaine stood up, took Kurt by the arm and pulled him up out of his chair-"Stop it! Stop it! They'll see us!" He then marched them both directly to the table being surveyed, Kurt hissing under his breath the entire way.

"Good evening, ladies. Mind if we join you?"

Quinn and Rachel were both startled to see Blaine with a very surly looking Kurt beside him. Rachel recovered first and waved them into seats, "Of course! I didn't know anyone else I knew ate here. Blaine, are you vegan?"

Immediately taking a seat and offering a charming smile, Blaine said, "I'm not, but I hear they have some of the best sandwiches in town." He and Rachel started an exchange about the food while Kurt straightened his outfit and slowly removed his sunglasses before sitting.

"Hi, Quinn."

"Kurt. Funny seeing you here," Quinn gave him a hard look. _What exactly are you doing here?_

He sniffed, "I could say the same thing." Rachel and Blaine seemed unaware of the labored greeting and continued chatting amicably.

* * *

_Well, that certainly made the night more gay, but even less like a date._ Quinn was waiting by her car while Rachel said goodnight one more time to their surprise dinner guests. Kurt had been awkward for a while, but eventually loosened up. She still suspected he was up to something-_I mean, honestly, sunglasses at night?_-but she wasn't sure what the motive was. _Mercedes tipped him off, of course. Should I call her out on it or will I have too much to explain myself? Their plan obviously backfired because of Blaine, I bet she doesn't bring it up._

"That was such a fun evening!" Rachel came bouncing over to the car, a grin on her face.

"Yeah, it was fun." Quinn drove and listened quietly while Rachel rehashed topics from dinner. She had some new information to add to her Berry Be Mine plan. Some films Rachel wanted to see, she knew how to crotchet- "Stars are a much more complicated shape than most people realize!"- and she disliked the taste of artificial grape. Pulling into the Berry driveway, Quinn had more or less given up on this night ending in any kind of a date-like exchange. _Better luck next time, Fabray._

"Thank you for the ride and the pleasant evening, Quinn. I had a really good time," Rachel was unbuckling her seat belt, Quinn stayed put.

"You bet. I had fun, too."

Now facing the blonde, "I'm glad we're doing this." Looking over, Quinn watched Rachel gesture at the space in between them. "Spending time together. I think it's very good for teammates to support and get to know one another."

Excited at first to hear that Rachel enjoyed being around her, the feeling dropped a little. _She means Glee, getting to know me is good for Glee club. Why does that feel so disappointing? It's not like I can't work with that inside my prom plan. _"Right," she tried smiling.

Impulsive as ever, Rachel sprang into a hug inside the car. The gesture was slightly mangled when the smaller girl became entangled with Quinn's seat belt, causing it crush the blonde uncomfortably. When Rachel released her, she was a little out of breath-_Because of the seat belt_.

"Um, also, it's just nice to spend time with you for you. I mean, since we're trying to be friends, right?"

_Say something back. Say something, anything._ "Yeah." _Okay, maybe should have said more than that._ She shook her head lightly, "Yeah, I like this, too. Us being friends."

They smiled at each other and Rachel excused herself from the car, heading to her door. Quinn watched the other girl sort through her keyring for a moment and then glanced around the interior of her car. On the passenger seat, there was a star-shaped jewel caught on the upholstery. She picked it up and turned back to the door, thinking to roll down her window and shout to Rachel, but she was already inside. _I'll give it back some other time_, she thought, and slipped the small gem into her purse.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: An update! It's like magic. Thanks for the reviews and enjoy, gang!_

* * *

It was Tuesday and it was very early, much earlier than one would expect to see students walking into McKinley High's front doors. But Quinn had serious business to attend to-she had lost a notebook. A notebook containing her battle plans for prom. And not knowing the whereabouts of those plans simply would not do. She had spent hours tearing apart her room the night before when she realized it was missing, and now she was going to retrace her steps starting from Monday afternoon in hopes of finding it.

Last period was always Glee, so she headed to the choir room. She peaked through the dim window and tested the doorknob. _Unlocked. You'd figure they'd lock a room with instruments in it._ Pushing open the door and flipping on the lights, she made a beeline for her seat. She was both relieved and uneasy to discover the notebook sitting in her chair. Picking it up slowly, she glanced around the room. It felt foolish, but she couldn't shake the feeling of disquiet. Certain she was alone in the room, she sat down and immediately turned to the page full of Berry-related notes. _Still there, looks fine._ Quickly thumbing through the rest of the book, she felt satisfied that its pages were undisturbed.

Throughout the day, Quinn found herself examining faces in the hallway closely, looking for any signs of someone who may have read some or all of her notebook. No one seemed especially suspicious. Well, other than the usual suspects. She knew Mercedes and Kurt were up to hijinks, but didn't think it would include anything so elaborate as stealing her notebook. And of course, there was always Santana, who was looking quite smug. But several periods passed and nothing happened. Rachel never confronted her, copies of the notebook pages weren't taped to every locker door. It seemed like maybe she really had just forgotten it in her rush to leave class. Her concern slipped from her mind when she arrived back in choir room again at the end of the day.

* * *

"All right, guys. So this week's theme was … ." Mr. Schuester looked expectantly at his students. Rachel's hand shot up first—well, first in a list of one. His eyebrows knitted slightly, always hoping the other kids would show even a quarter of her enthusiasm. Preferably never more than half of her enthusiasm, just to be on the safe side. "Yes, Rachel?"

"Improvisation!"

"Yes, and that's why we're going to head to the auditorium for today's lesson. I want you guys up on stage, doing skits. I've got some exercises that I think will really get your creative juices flowing and help us get an edge in our performances. Fun, right?" A few of the students made tired faces at one another; nobody said anything. He cleared his throat, "Right. Can I get some volunteers to get the prop cart from storage?" Once again, Rachel's hand and Rachel's hand alone. "Great, thanks, Rachel. Santana, how about you help—"

"You have _got_ to be kidding. Me? Go into the creepy basement with a girl who could be related to the Leprechaun? Nuh-uh."

Before Mr. Schue could argue, Quinn jumped in, "I'd be happy to help Rachel, Mr. Schue."

"Thank you! You see, _that's_ a team player. You could take a page out of Quinn's book, Santana."

With a fake, syrupy smile, "I'm sure I could, Mr. Schue. Thanks for the advice."

Quinn whipped around in her chair, eyeing Santana. _Is she hinting? Did she find the notebook? I'm so screwed if she found it. What if she _did_ copy those pages. What if—_

"All right. Quinn, Rachel you guys head to the basement, use the service elevator. Everybody else, let's hit the stage!"

"Coming, Quinn?" Rachel was already on her feet, looking at her expectantly.

She was still staring at the smiling Santana, who was sauntering out of the room behind Brittany and Artie. "I—yeah. Lead the way." _How can I find out? Break into her locker maybe … ._

* * *

The prop cart was an old, rolling towel bin that had once belonged to the football team. The stenciled letters spelling out "Titan Towels" had been crossed out and someone—_Probably Rachel, there's a star dotting that exclamation point_—had written "Glee!" beside it. A third message had been hastily added next to that in red. It said, of course, "SUCKS!"

Rachel was listing off successful uses of improvisation on Broadway when the rickety elevator chimed and the doors parted, "I'll get the door!" She ran inside and held the button to keep the doors from closing.

"Thanks, Rach," Quinn pushed the cumbersome bin into the elevator. There wasn't a whole lot of space in there with the two of them and the cart, but she was trying to ignore that as the doors slid shut. The squeaky pulleys and cables rattled to life, lifting them slowly upward. They hadn't been moving for more than a few seconds before the elevator came to an abrupt halt.

_Shit._

"Are we stuck?" Rachel pushed the button for the first floor a few times.

"We're stuck." _Don't panic, don't panic._

"Oh, well, I'll just press the alarm then."

"Won't work," Quinn muttered. Her face felt hot. _This is exactly my damn luck. Or karma. This is probably karma. Damn it, damn it, double damn it._

"Don't be silly," Rachel smiled and pressed the larger red button on the grid. Nothing happened. "Why isn't it working?"

Quinn shut her eyes, "Because I disconnected it."

"Excuse me?"

The small enclosure was feeling smaller every minute. "When Santana and I were still Cheerios, Coach had us doing a lot of her dirty work." She swallowed hard. "One of our assignments was to disconnect the alarm for this elevator—it gets stuck all the time." Opening her eyes, she looked at Rachel imploringly, "It was meant as a trap for Mr. Schue. Look, I completely forgot about it. It was when I was being a bad person, okay? I really regret it. I can't tell you how much I regret this right now."

"While I'm not at all surprised by Coach Sylvester's complete lack of regard for personal safety, I do have to say that… . Quinn? Quinn, are you okay?"

The taller girl had edged away, one hand on the cart, and was now pressed against a wall, eyes darting between self, cart, and door. "No."

"What's wrong?"

_Need out, need out, need out. What if we die? What if we run out of air. Oh, God, Rachel talks so much—there won't be any air after five minutes._ A small touch on her hand startled her, "I'm claustrophobic."

The other girl's eyes widened, "Oh-okay, don't panic."

"Trying not to," Quinn felt like she might be sick. _Can't get sick, that will reduce the space in here by several cubic inches. Oh god. How much air is in here again? _

Rachel watched in alarm as sweat gathered at Quinn's temples. She looked around, hoping to come up with a solution to their predicament. And then, it hit her, "Improv!"

"Not the time, Rach."

"No, listen. Everybody will wonder what happened when we don't bring the props. This is the first logical place to look and when they find us, Mr. Schuester can call someone and get us out. All we have to do is keep you distracted until then." Quinn was only half-listening, she was trying to control her breathing. Rachel turned and dug around in the cart. She pulled out a pink, plastic flamingo. She held it aloft and tucked a hand under her chin, grinning. "Guess what I am?"

_Small spaces make me panic, they make her crazy._"Crazy."

"No, silly! I'm a lawn gnome!"

The blonde's eyes refocused slightly, "You're a what?"

"A lawn gnome," she gestured with the flamingo. "I know it's the kind of juvenile humor Santana would resort to, but I'm perfectly willing to work with my given assets. Short stature can be successfully wielded for comedy. Look, we'll try another."

Quinn watched as Rachel leaned into the bin (the edge comes up fairly high on a short-statured girl) and dug around for something else.

"Ah-ha! I bet you can guess this one," Rachel pulled out a bowler hat, which she pressed lightly onto her head and put a finger over her upper lip. She batted her eyelashes and gestured at Quinn.

_Her eyes are pretty, have I written that on my list? Pretty and big. Or maybe just close. Close… space… . Oh lord, stuck in the elevator. Stop it, stop it. Pay attention._ "Um, Chaplin?"

"Yes! It just so happens, Charlie Chaplin was very short for a man, but he didn't let it stop him from becoming a legend." Quinn smiled weakly and watched the brunette dive in again for a new prop. "Oooh, here's a good one." Rachel pulled out a faded, cheap-looking football helmet and dropped it on her head.

"I don't know any famous, short football players."

Rachel put her hands on her hips, "Uh, hello?" Quinn shook her head. "Rachel Berry, star quarterback extraordinaire!"

She laughed, her body relaxing a little. Rachel's plan was working. "I am very sorry, Ms. Berry. I thought I was supposed to be guessing other people."

"Mm, trick question I guess," she smiled, lifting off the helmet. As she was turning to find yet another prop, a knock sounded in the elevator shaft followed by Mr. Schuester's muffled voice.

"Are you girls in there?"

Rachel was the first to answer, "Yes! Mr. Schue, we're stuck about halfway to the first floor!"

"I'll get maintenance; we'll have you out right away! Are you both okay?"

"Get us the Hell out of here!"

"We're fine!" Rachel eyed Quinn anxiously, "Please just hurry!"

"Okay, hang tight!"

_No choice. They found us, it'll be okay. It'll be okay._

"Well, we've got time for a few more rounds of the guessing game. Let's see what I can find." The star quarterback returned the helmet to the pile and began rifling through the other props. Quinn heard a small giggle from the bin. "Perfect," Rachel lifted her head, "Close your eyes, Quinn."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Trust me, you'll like this one. Close your eyes and imagine you're in a huge open room. A grand hall, even. With marble floors and high ceilings."

She gave the other girl a puzzled look, but complied, closing her eyes.

_Marble floors and high ceilings. I can live with that. Maybe some art on the walls. Not art like at Sprouts, that was weird. Something else I guess. Monet? Monet would be okay. Or Renoir. _

Her breathing, which had picked up again after shouting, was starting to go back to normal. She was focusing on adding calming artwork to her imaginary grand hall when Rachel spoke.

"Aaaand open." Rachel was holding out a tiara. A few of the rhinestones were missing and a tooth from the comb had snapped off, but it still glittered in the dim elevator light. "How about a coronation ceremony, Queen Quinn?"

The next moments played in slow motion for Quinn. Words caught in her throat, she knew Rachel was referencing her paper and their first movie night, but it felt like one coincidence too many. _Maybe God is trying to tell me something?_ The shorter girl stepped forward, eliminating the small distance between them in the cramped space. Rocking onto her toes, Rachel reached up and placed the tiara on Quinn's head. The imaginary hall and the real elevator vanished; all Quinn could see or think about was Rachel.

Without stepping back, Rachel inspected her handy work. She smiled and her voice took on a shy quality, "You would make a very beautiful queen."

The word "beautiful" echoed in her skull, bumping gently into thoughts, causing them to fall apart like houses of cards. The queen of hearts flickered in her mind's eye while her physical eyes made their own way across Rachel's face. She looked at the eyes she had admired earlier, at the nose that personified character, at lips that helped form the most exquisite singing voice she had ever heard.

_Kiss her._

Quinn started to drop her chin, ever so slowly, down and to her right. She wouldn't be able to remember later if Rachel tilted her head up or not. She was certain they were both drawing closer together when—BANG!

The elevator jolted back to life, causing the girls to stumble away from one another. As they steadied themselves, the doors slid open, revealing a concerned looking Mr. Schue and a grouchy Principal Figgins.

Figgins was the first to speak, "Thank goodness! They appear in perfect health—no lawsuits."

Mr. Schue frowned at him and turned to the girls, "Are you two okay?"

Quinn did not feel okay. In fact, she felt as bad or worse than she did at the height of her claustrophobic panic. Rachel's eyes connected with hers, a serious expression on her face. "We're fine," the shorter girl said softly.

_I have to get out of here. _

Ripping the tiara off her head and casting it aside, Quinn erupted out of the elevator and took off running.

Mr. Schuester called after her and turned to Rachel, "What's going on?"

Rachel watched Quinn's disappearing figure for a moment, looking crestfallen. Registering her teacher's question, she answered, "Quinn is claustrophobic, sir. She probably needs to … to collect herself. That's all."

"Oh, that's terrible. I am so sorry you guys got stuck in there." He turned to Figgins, "You really need to replace this elevator. The kids could have gotten hurt."

Rachel followed behind Schue and Figgins as they argued over the elevator all the way to the auditorium where the Gleeks were waiting to hear what happened. Quinn didn't come back.

* * *

Judy could hear Quinn pacing in her room. She had learned with Quinn's sister that sometimes there's just no helping teenagers. In the spirit of non-intrusive parenting, she had resigned herself to waiting patiently for her daughter to come to her seeking advice rather than try to force the issue. Whatever the issue happened to be.

Above the living room where her mother was having a cup of tea to unwind, Quinn was doing the opposite. "Wound up" didn't even begin to describe what this particular Fabray was experiencing.

_We almost kissed. That almost happened. That's part of the plan, right? It's part of the plan. _She stormed around her room, wringing her fingers. _So what happened? What went wrong in there? You almost kissed and the elevator interrupted you. Only the elevator isn't my problem. What's my problem? Is it Rachel? Is she the problem? No, I don't think she is. Almost kissed._ Her pacing slowed down. _ I _wanted_ to kiss her. _Her feet stopped in front of her mirror, where she stared into her own anxious face. "Not part of the plan," she told her reflection. _That's my problem._

* * *

After forty solid minutes of frazzled, circular inner monologue, Quinn ventured out of her room. She tiptoed into the kitchen and cracked open the fridge, hoping not to draw attention to herself. Face buried in the cold, she continued to try to make sense of her hyperemotional last 24 hours.

_First the missing notebook, then Santana, and now this. I feel—_

"Looking for the milk?"

"Jesus!" Quinn jumped backward, causing a package of string cheese to fall out of the fridge door and hit the ground.

"Quinnie, language."

"Sorry, Mom. You just," she bent down and retrieved the cheese, "startled me, that's all. Um, I was looking for milk, actually."

"We're out. I'm going to the store tomorrow. Can I fix you anything? You didn't eat much dinner."

Tucking the cheese back in its place, Quinn shook her head, "No thanks. Thirsty, I'll just drink some water."

"Mm hmm," Judy got a glass out of the cupboard and handed it to Quinn, who walked over to the sink to fill it. Judy leaned casually against the counter, silent.

After a long swig, Quinn topped the glass off with more water and turned around. She watched her mother; her mother watched her. It was unnerving. Tapping her nails against the outside of her glass, she gave in, "I'm a little stressed out."

"I see that. School?"

"Sort of."

"Boy trouble?"

Quinn frowned, "Definitely not."

"Care to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Judy shrugged, "Okay, I'm here if you need me." She pushed away from the counter and made to leave the room.

"Wait! I mean, I just have a—a question."

Feigning surprise, her mother turned around, "Yes?"

"It's just that, well, there's this situation. It's complicated." She gave her mother a stern look, "Nobody is pregnant." Judy nodded appreciatively. "What would you do if… ." _If what? You planned to trick a girl into liking you and then ended up liking her yourself and almost kissed her? I bet Mom would _love_ that question._ "What if you want something you're not sure about?"

"Not sure about how?"

"Not sure if it's right to want it?" As an afterthought, she added, "Or maybe you don't deserve it?"

Judy folded her arms, "Is this something bad for you?"

"No, not really. Not at all, actually."

"Does this something belong to anyone else?"

"Nope," Quinn took another sip and smiled into her drink. Her mind wandered back to Rachel and Finn's fight over the necklace.

"Does this something make you happy?"

_Does she? _Quinn thought about movie nights, about the failed dates, about how Rachel kept her from having a meltdown in the elevator. "Yes."

Judy looked at her daughter's face, which had grown somber and a touch astonished. She would swear that this was boy trouble, but she didn't say anything about it. "Well, Quinn, I think you should go for it. And," a pause for emphasis, "you deserve to be happy, honey. Don't let anybody tell you differently."

Quinn smiled at her mother, "Thank you, Mom."

"Anytime. Try not to pace anymore tonight, okay? I don't want to have to replace the carpet in your room." And with that, Judy left.

_Moms are amazing. And a little scary._

* * *

It had been a mostly sleepless night for Quinn. She wrestled with her feelings, the prior events, and her mother's advice. A few hours before dawn, she decided that, though terrifying, being attracted to Rachel wasn't that bad. Of course, there was still the occasional hiccup if she thought about it _too_ hard.

_I like Rachel Berry and I am okay with that._

This had been Quinn's mantra on her drive to school Wednesday. The revised plan wasn't much different than the original one. She still wanted to be prom queen and this new curve just meant she might enjoy the journey to the crown more.

_A lot more, if I'm right about that almost-kiss._

The next step was to take Rachel aside and talk to her about what happened in the elevator. This was proving difficult, as the tiny quarterback was hard to track down that day. Quinn didn't see her until Glee.

Rachel arrived last and lingered at the front of the classroom. Mr. Schue, fearing the worst, ventured a guess, "Do you have something to say, Rachel?"

"I do, Mr. Schue, thank you. Everyone," she waited until all of Glee club was listening, "I am pleased to announce, after careful consideration of a suggestion made to me by Noah, that I will be hosting … a party!"

Puck grinned, "Nice!"

"Detailed invitations to follow, but I wanted to give you plenty of notice so you can write it into your schedules. This Saturday night, starting at 7pm sharp!"

Some smiles and some murmuring went through the group as Mr. Schue motioned Rachel to her seat.

Quinn leaned over a little, "Hey, can we talk? Maybe hang out later?"

Rachel smiled at Quinn, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'm afraid this week I'm going to be very busy planning and gathering supplies for the festivities, but you'll be at the party, right?"

Frowning, "Yeah, of course I'll be there. I was just hoping—"

Mr. Schue interrupted her, "Okay, enough chattering. Let's focus here. After yesterday's failed attempt at… ." Quinn, however, was unable to focus on the lesson.

_Have I messed this up before it's even begun?_


End file.
